#instead of putting them together just because “fans like them together” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eternal-love-song · 3 days ago

Text

In Flowers And Blood

Siffrin swallows his feelings and coughs up flowers.

[Siffrin/Odile]

[Hanahaki Disease, Siffrin POV, Angst, Angst with a happy ending, Second Person POV, Character Study, Relationship Study, Introspection, Pre-canon (at first)]

You knew you were in trouble the first time you went drinking together.

You had still been a little uncertain about your place in the party. You were the fastest attacker, sure, and your scissors attacks had really come in handy, but you hadn't yet settled in with them outside of battle. You'd barely figured out how to make Isabeau laugh, Mirabelle acted like she was afraid of you half the time, and Odile was cold. You constantly thought you were doing something wrong and tried to keep out of the way as much as possible.

Mostly, that meant that you lurked on the edges of conversations being silent and still so as not to interrupt anything you weren't meant to be a part of. That sometimes backfired, as you'd often scared Mirabelle because she didn't realize you'd been there, but you hadn't figured out how else to handle things.

It was easier in the bar. It was just the three of you, as Mirabelle wasn't a big fan of drinking. You'd been drinking plenty of times before and no one usually expected much out of you other than telling a story or two, so you were able to relax for the first time since joining up with them.

The private table that they'd chosen made it easier to relax than if they had sat at the bar. Isabeau got all of your drink orders and brought them to the table.

Isabeau was exactly as you'd expected him to be, friendly and loud and wearing a smile that only seemed to grow over the course of the night. He told stories about his time with the Defenders that had you and Odile both making comments and jokes more easily than you ever had before.

Madame Odile was the one to surprise you. A few drinks in and she became almost a different person. Warmer, looser, and full of wry commentary. She laughed more openly than you'd ever heard her. She teased you instead of making the careful comments that you had been used to.

It was nice!

You found yourself trying to tell your own stories just to join in with them. You didn't think that you had anything very interesting to say, but Isabeau seemed to hang on your every word and Madame Odile looked at you with keen interest. For once you found the attention nice instead of suffocating.

When you got back to your room at the Inn, Isabeau ended up passing out on the couch without even making it to the bed. You fumbled your shoes off at the door and helped Madame Odile to the other bed in the room. She was a bit shakier than you were. Her tolerance was higher, but because of that she had also drunk a lot more to get to the level of drunk she was at. You were drunk too, but the instinct to care about your friends made you careful with them where you wouldn't have been with yourself.

You spent over a minute staring at the other bed, afraid that your stumbling and shuffling into bed would wake Mirabelle, before you found yourself being pulled backward into the bed.

You squeaked! Then your face flushed darkly at the noise that came out of you. You looked over your shoulder to see Madame Odile watching you with tied eyes.

"Just go to sleep, Siffrin," she said. You could see her making herself comfortable, only withdrawing the hand she had on your shoulder once she was sure that you would stay put. "Let's leave poor Mirabelle alone, shall we?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice after the strange sound that had come out of you. You ended up staring at her for a while before eventually nestling into your pillow and letting your heavy eyelids close.

It was in the morning that you knew.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You weren't the first one awake, you never were. But you heard Mirabelle in the bathroom and Isabeau's heavy breaths were still coming from the direction of the couch. It took a while for you to wake up. You blinked slowly as you tried to force yourself awake. Once you did, all you could do was stare.

You had never been this close to Odile before. You'd never had the chance to really look at her without her catching you or making some comment about it. Odile was… really pretty. All your party members were, in your opinion, but it was different with Odile. You wanted to trace her face with your fingertips. The lines beneath her eyes that only barely smoothed in her sleep, the worry lines that scrunched up her forehead. You took it all in with a greed that surprised you.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this warm and comfortable when watching another person. It wouldn't last, you knew that it wouldn't. Whatever closeness the two of you had shared last night was a one off, brought on by alcohol and the atmosphere. You couldn't expect to have the same ease again, but you desperately wanted to.

Selfishly, you moved just a tiny bit closer to her. Close enough that your head was almost pressed against her shoulder. You wouldn't dare touch her on your own, but you wanted to be closer to her, if you could just figure out how. When she shifted slightly in her sleep, enough that you were finally touching skin to skin, you almost jumped out of the bed.

Almost.

You forced yourself to remain still, too afraid that when you lost that contact you'd never get it back. It was nice. It was addictive. You knew that she had only pulled you into her bed for convenience, but the thought that she might want you there, might want you to be closer to you too made something in your chest feel warm and full.

Something in your chest… and in your throat.

You held it in. Whatever it was, you wanted to ignore it as long as possible.

An hour later, when you found yourself having a coughing fit in the bathroom, crouched beside the sink as you tried to desperately muffle the sound with your hands, you knew. Even before you opened your hand and found the small shredded petals, you knew.

You were in trouble.

It was pretty easy to ignore that tickle you felt in your throat.

At least, that's what you told yourself. With enough water and deep breathing, it hadn't progressed to the point of a coughing fit again. You could even pretend that you'd imagined the tiny, crushed things you'd found in your hand that one time. You were barely awake, after all, and you'd been drunk the night before. Your mind had probably been playing tricks on you.

You told yourself that it was nothing and then you decided to believe it.

In the time since that night, things had actually gotten a lot better! You finally felt like you fit in with your party, a little bit, at least. You and Isabeau traded jokes back and forth a lot more often. You'd gotten better at talking to Mirabelle, though you still didn't feel like you ever knew what the right thing to say to her was. And you and Madame Odile had settled into a… something.

You weren't quite sure what to call it. You both sent each other commiserating looks when you tripped over some strange and new part of Vaugardian culture. She didn't look at you with the same caution that she had prior. You felt less like a parasite intruding upon her space when you were near her.

And you wanted to be near her a lot. More than anyone else in the party.

That… was probably bad. You think if you ever said that to Mirabelle, she would cry. You didn't want to make Mirabelle cry. So you had to make sure that you didn't say anything upsetting to her. And anyway, Madame Odile would probably find it odd that you wanted to spend so much time with her.

It… was weird, wasn't it? It was clingy, at the very least. You didn't want to be clingy. You didn't want her to hate you.

You must have been doing a good job at not being weird or clingy or any of those things though, because she invited you to spend time alone with her!

You were surprised at first. Really, really surprised! It made more sense once she told you what she wanted to do. There was no way that Mirabelle or Isabeau would be interested in walking around in an antique shop all day. Isabeau was usually pretty loud and energetic, while Mirabelle was pretty anxious. You didn't think either of them would enjoy being cooped up in a cramped old shop very much.

Even if it was only because you were her only option, you still appreciated being asked. You enjoyed sharing space with her. You liked that you didn't feel pressured to speak around her like you often did with the others. You could just as easily walk around the shop in silent solidarity as you could share a simple conversation with each other. It was nice.

"Siffrin," Odile called to you softly, leaning down over one of the shelves. "Come here."

You walked around one of the tables that cluttered the center of the shop to get to her side. There was barely enough space for you to slip between the aisles, you couldn't imagine someone as big as Isabeau being comfortable here. You stopped a few steps away from Odile, not wanting to crowd her in the already cramped shop.

She pointed to a small collection of glass figurines. Fat, round things with exaggerated expressions. Laughter, surprise, horror, anger… There were about a dozen of them all clustered together. "I'm curious, which of these do you think would suit us all?"

She was wearing a teasing expression, lips quirked up into a wry smirk. The question felt like a trap, but not a mean one. You knew she was going to think whatever you picked was silly, but you hoped that you'd be able to get a laugh out of her, at least.

You sorted through the little figures for a few minutes before you finally settled on your final picks. "This one is Isa." The one you pointed to was particularly short, but it had its hands on a round belly and looked like it was laughing loudly, so you knew it fit. It gots a small chuckle out of her and you thought it was because of how stout the figure looked compared to Isabeau. "Next… these two are Mira." One had an absolutely horrified expression and the other looked ready to fight.

Odile's laugh was nearly a snort. "Yes, I'd say that fits our little housemaiden perfectly."

The last one that you pointed to was showing teeth in a smile. You couldn't tell if it was teasing or threatening. You thought that fit Madame Odile better you could describe her in words. "This one is you."

She didn't laugh, but her smirk did widen. She picked up the little figure to examine it closely. "So this is how you see me, is it?" Her words had a teasing lilt when she looked at you. You found yourself shrinking into your cloak and your face darkening without being fully sure why.

"Do you think I'm wrong?" you asked.

"Oh no, I think you've read me perfectly." She flashed you a smile. It reminded you of the figure, dangerous and teasing. You liked it more than you thought you should.

She carefully sat the figure back down. After a brief glance at the collection of figures, she picked out another one. This one looked kind of mysterious. Most of its body was hidden and even though it was smiling, you couldn't quite figure out what the smile meant. Was it joking? Did it know a secret? She held it out to you and dropped it into your hand.

"That one is you," she said.

You weren't sure what to think of it, other than feeling kind of warm and happy that she thought about you. "What makes this one me?"

Odile smiled as she stood straight. "I think I'll let you figure that one out on your own," she said with a slaugh.

You watched her as she walked away to look through the other shelves. Your hand curled gently around the figure. You felt a little hiccup in your thought, but you decided to ignore that. The warmth you felt in your cheeks was more worthy of attention than the little scratching of your throat.

And if you coughed into your hand on your way out of the shop, well, you didn't bother looking at your hand so you didn't see anything that may have been worth fretting over.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You were able to see a new side of Odile once you found Bonnie. Really, Bonnie's presence revealed a new side to all of you. Isabeau acted sillier, Mirabelle smiled more often, and Odile… she didn't get softer, exactly, but she changed in more subtle ways. She explained herself more often, she corrected them and they absorbed every new word she offered enthusiastically, and she played along with them.

You… were the same. At least, you thought that you were. Except that now you had a new shadow that followed you around most of the time. You were flattered by the attention and tried really hard to impress them. But that was true of most of your party.

You liked Bonnie. You liked the way that they made your friends smile more. You liked the food that they cooked. Most of all, you liked watching the way Odile sent small smiles their way whenever they did something she thought was clever.

"You know," you whisper to her when you catch her secretly smiling. "I'd almost think that you liked our new kid."

Madame Odile huffed, holding her book higher and hiding her face. "You're imagining things."

She was cute like this. Cute in a different way from Mira or Isa or anyone else. She was letting more and more pieces of herself slip out around you all and you liked it. You loved it! You wished that you could get to know her even more, even better.

You coughed. It went on for just long enough that she raised an eyebrow at you.

"Are you alright there, Siffrin?"

You nodded, keeping your hand glued to your mouth. "Just… need water?"

She nodded and handed you your canteen so that you could drink. You took a long sip without looking at your hand. You felt better afterwards, so you didn't think about it anymore than that.

"We don't need you getting sick," she told you. "Best take care."

You felt warm.

"Thanks."

You found yourself split into pairs more often with Bonnie around. They required a lot of attention and it was easier to give it to them when there was someone that you could tag team with. It was easiest with Isa. He could pick Bonnie up and let them crawl over him, or he would ask questions in a way that made Bonnie feel like he was teaching them something when they answered. You found it easy to play off Isabbeau. Either it was the two of you making jokes together and teasing Bonnie, or it was you and Bonnie teaming up to tease Isabeau. Isa rarely joined Bonnie in teasing you, but you were alright with that.

It was most difficult with Mirabelle. The two of you had very difficult levels of care and she often got worried watching you and Bonnie together or else misunderstood something that you meant as a joke for them. She'd been very concerned about you showing them tricks with your dagger, likewise when you offered to show them how to hold it even though they used a knife regularly when cooking. You knew that it was just because Mirabelle was really anxious and worried about them hurting themselves, but it still made you self conscious a lot and caused you to second guess your actions around them a lot.

Of course, you enjoyed it most when it was you and Odile. Bonnie often thought that the two of you were boring together, but Odile took all the comments about her age in stride and they always listened to what she said. You were a bit better at indulging them and she was better at being stern, which meant that neither of you had to act much differently to keep their attention contained between them.

"This is boring," Bonnie complained after staring at the two of you for a full minute. You were sitting side by side, your gaze fixed on a bird hopping around on the ground while Odile was watching one perched on a branch above them. You could see her scribbling things done every so often but you didn't try to look at what she wrote. "You're not even doing anything."

"No one told you that you had to stay behind with us, Boniface," Odile answered without missing a beat.

Bonnie pouted and visibly deflated. "I thought I'd get to see you do secret old people things."

You snickered. They were watching you do secret old person things, but they'd wanted to see something exciting and dangerous, not calm and relaxing. You decide to show them mercy that you knew Madame Odile would not. You reached into your pocket pulling out a handful of seeds and gestured for them to come closer. "Do you want to feed them?"

Bonnie perked up a bit. "Can I?"

Bonnie almost ran to your side, but you quickly gestured for them to slow down and walk so that they didn't scare away the birds. You dumped half your seeds into the palm of their hand. "Start by throwing them out further away and then you can leave some closer to lure them in."

Bonnie was nodding eagerly, like you'd just imparted some secret knowledge to them. Perhaps you had. They were pretty young after all.

They threw out almost all their seeds immediately, which you kind of expected. You tossed your seeds a bit closer, hoping that you could get something to come a bit closer to you.

You didn't even need to watch that long before a few birds had taken the bait and begun hopping on the ground closer to you all.

"Whoa," they whispered with large, entranced eyes. They could be really cute when they got like this.

"Would you like to know more about that bird there?" Odile asked, nodding toward one of the birds in particular.

"Like what?" they asked. "They're all just birds, right?"

Odile smiled like she was telling them a secret. "Oh no, not at all. These birds are all quite different from each other."

Bonnie squinted at her like they expected this to be a trick. "Like what?"

The next hour was spent with Odile telling Bonnie a few facts that she knew about birds and you adding stories that you'd mostly made up off the top of your head, sometimes based on things Odile told him. It was fun! You were both pretty good at bouncing off each other and she had the poker face to make it hard for Bonnie to tell when she was joking or poking fun at them.

You hoped that you were able to have more days like this. Calm, lazy days where you didn't feel like you needed to worry too much.

When Mira and Isa returned, Bonnie ran over to them almost immediately, scarring off all the birds that had previously gathered. You laughed at their enthusiasm while Odile just sighed. She closed her book and turned to you. "Shall we?"

She got to her feet, pausing as she looked down at him. She reached out to him, her hand brushing across his hair and making him shiver briefly. "You had feathers in your hair," she told you.

You didn't see it, but then again, you didn't really check. Your eyes were glued to her and the small smile that she had saved just for you. The smile that only came out when you were both alone. A smile that was a little teasing, a little playful, a little knowing, a little sincere…

A little bit of everything that made your heartbeat a little weird and your face heat up.

You kept watching her even as she walked away.

You had to cough a few times before you leveraged yourself to your feet. Odile had already turned away though, so there was no one to see. No one to worry.

You cleared your throat and went to join everyone else.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

The coughing started coming more often. You did your best to hold it in, to hide it from the others. You didn’t want them worrying about you. You pressed your hand to your mouth and coughed, and coughed, until your hand was full of petals.

You didn’t look at them.

You wiped your hand off on the grass to scatter the petals and drank water until the burning in your throat passed.

You told yourself that you'd be fine.

And you were!

For a while, you were.

And then you messed up.

"Siffrin!"

You squeezed your arms tight around Bonnie, even as pain lashed through one side of your face. You took the hit for them, but the blow still tossed the both of you a few feet backward. You could hear the others coming to finish it off even as you screamed in pain. But you refused to let Bonnie go. You didn't want them seeing how hurt you were.

"Frin?"

You bit your tongue to stop your screaming. You wanted to say that you were okay, but if you opened your mouth, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself again.

"Siffrin." Odile's voice, but your eyes were closed too tightly to see her. "Let me see the damage." You felt her hands on your face, tilting your head. "Shattered gems!"

That didn't sound good.

Bonnie started to squirm in your arms. "What's going on? I want to see!"

You held them tighter and bit your tongue harder. You couldn’t scream again, you couldn’t make them worry. You couldn’t let Bonnie see.

It hurt so much that you couldn't tell if the wetness on your face was from blood or tears. It was all you could do to hold Bonnie and bite your tongue. All you could think about was how it hurt, hurt, hurt!

"Siffrin." Odile's hand moved from your face to your arm. "Let go of Boniface. I'll take him."

Your arms were locked in place. You weren't sure that you could let go without losing your grip on everything. All of your control was wrapped up together in a tight ball of tension. You couldn't. You just couldn't.

"Siffrin." For one moment, you felt Odile's arms around you, embracing you as she squeezed Bonnie between you both. "It's okay, you can let go."

You felt warm.

You let go.

When you woke up, it was either several hours or several days later. You were alone, except for Odile sitting in the chair by your bed, eyes focused on her book. As soon as you began to stir, she was closing it to look at you, though. All of her attention was on you as she leaned closer.

"Ah, Siffrin." Her voice was softer than normal. Her eyes trailed over her with careful precision. "How are you feeling?"

You opened your mouth to answer and…

You coughed.

You couldn't stop coughing. You pressed a hand to your mouth as you coughed and coughed and…

Odile helped you sit up, one hand gripping your shoulder tightly. It took longer than you expected to get yourself under control. You looked down at your palm when she turned away to get you a glass of water. In the center of your palm was a mess of blood and petals. You closed your fist tight and hid your hand beneath the blanket.

"I'll help you," she said, holding the glass up for you. You lifted your other hand to take hold of the glass and she waited until she was sure your grip was firm before she let go.

You empted the glass before asking what happened.

You'd never seen that look on her face before. She looked… conflicted. Distressed.

You did that.

You did that to her.

You made her feel that way.

You needed to fix it. You needed to undo whatever it was that you did to make her look so unhappy.

"Siffrin, your eye…" Odile took a deep breath, steeling herself. "They couldn't…"

Oh. Your eye.

You brought your hand up to your injured side, surprised to find bandages there. Even without her finishing the statement, you understood what she had been trying to say. You remembered the pain that you were in, the way that you could barely stop yourself from screaming.

"It's gone, isn't it?"

To Odile's credit, she didn't hesitate as much when answering you. "Yes. I'm so sorry."

You wished that you could reach out and smooth away the worry lines from her face. You wished that you could hold her hand and tell her that you would be fine. You wished that, you wished…

You… didn't wish for anything. You took a breath deep enough to be certain that you wouldn't cough and you said, "I'm fine."

You tried to smile, but from the look that she gave you, you weren't sure that it worked.

You were a failure.

You couldn't make Odile feel better. You couldn't lift her burdens.

You were one.

"Siffrin." You hated the exasperation you heard in her voice more than anything else.

You placed the glass on the table beside you.

Or, you tried to. You missed and only realized it when you heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor.

You stared at your hand as if it had betrayed you.

"It's alright," she told you. "I'll take care of it later."

You curled up in a ball and pulled the blanket over your head, hoping to disappear.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You knew what was happening to you and, despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep ignoring it. You had hoped that it would go away, that you were imaging things. You hoped that the coughing was a symptom of something else, the petals just your imagination. But as you stared into the sink, cluttered with handfuls of petals and splatters of blood, you had to admit to yourself what was happening.

You were sick.

You were dying.

It was a slow death. You'd cough more and more often. There would be more petals, and then flowers, and then roots taking hold in your lungs until there was no room for anything else. You would bleed; maybe from coughing your throat raw, maybe from the flowers scratching up your insides, maybe you'd drown in it, unable to cough everything up in time. The details didn't really matter. All that mattered was that you were on a time limit now and a rather short one at that.

You pressed your back to the door and let yourself slide to the floor. You were alone for the first time since your injury, so you didn't have to worry about taking too long or pretending to feel better than you did.

You hurt.

Your throat, your eye, even your lungs from all the coughing you'd just done. It all hurt so much and you didn't want to pretend that it didn't.

But you would.

You would.

You would pretend for them, so that you didn't make them worry.

You were already on your way to becoming dead weight, you didn't want to make it worse. You were too close to the end to start holding them back.

You tried to remember what you knew about this disease, or even what it was called, but you… couldn't. Trying to do so just made your head hurt along with everything else. You didn't remember, you just… knew.

You knew that you were going to die from this. You didn't know why.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Even if you didn't know, even if you had tried not to know, you couldn't lie to yourself forever. There was something in you. Something… longing. Something hungry. Something desperate and disgusting and selfish.

Something that you didn't want to look at too closely. Didn't want anyone else to look at. You didn't know how to make yourself stop… wanting.

You knew that you cared about your friends much more than they cared about you and you tried to be content with that. You tried not to think about the fact that you would lose them when you beat The King.

If you beat The King…

If you beat The King, and they left you like you knew they would, you would be alone again… wouldn't you?

You desperately didn't want to be alone but even more than that…

Even more than that…

If you could just keep one of them…

You knew that it was selfish. You knew that it would be beyond presumptuous to even ask. You knew that you didn't deserve any of them. But if you could stay with any one of them, you… knew… who you would choose.

You coughed.

You coughed and you choked and you cried tears that only fell from one eye. You slammed a fist against the ground as you coughed and wailed. Your vision was blurry as you watched flower petals and splatters of blood hit the floor and then be diluted by tears.

You hoped and you hated and you wanted and you wished and you…

You heard the opening in the other room open.

You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound of your coughing, but you couldn't stop. You curled up into a ball and closed your eyes.

You knew that you would need to clean everything up to hide it from your party. You knew that you couldn't take too long or else they would start to worry. But you couldn't bring yourself to get up just yet. So you stayed on the ground, you curled up so tightly that it made your stomach hurt, and waited for the coughing to stop.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

By the time you reached Dormont, the others were convinced that you were sick. You hadn't been able to hide your coughing as well as you'd wanted to. The fits had become a little too frequent for that. No one had noticed the petals though or the blood, so you were fine.

You had to be fine.

You needed to fight The King. You didn't have the luxury of not being fine.

Everyone else knew that, too. As much as they hadn't wanted to let you fight with them, they couldn't deny that they would need all the help that you could do.

So you had one more chance. One more chance to be useful to them. One more chance to help them. One more chance to be with them and smile with them, to fight with them and struggle with them, to make them laugh and give them a good memory of you to keep before they left you behind.

You coughed. Hard.

You covered your mouth, but you knew that there was no stopping these fits at this point. You were resigned to just hiding the petals and hoping that there wasn't much blood this time.

"That cough of yours is getting worse," Odile said. You jumped, surprised to find her standing next to you when the others had already walked on past you. She was frowning at you, giving you the stern look that you knew was her way of expressing concern more than it was a look of disapproval.

You thought there might have also been disapproval there.

You thought that she would tell you that you needed to keep it together for the fight. You thought that she might have wanted to tell you not to hold them all back. You thought that she might have wanted to scold you for getting sick in the eleventh hour. Or if she wouldn't have said that, you thought that maybe she should.

She should be mad at you for potentially crippling them at the last moment like this. You were certainly mad at yourself, so it would only make sense if she was mad at you too.

You didn't want Odile to be mad at you.

You really, really didn't want to disappoint her.

You wished…

Another fit of coughing interrupted your thought before you could finish it.

Odile waited for you to get yourself under control before you a canteen of water. You drank greedily, trying to wash down the clutter in your throat. It would have been better to spit them out, but you couldn't do that with her watching you.

"Once this whole business with The King is done, we are going to make you rest," she told you sternly.

You managed to smile at her. "Going to nurse me back to health?"

She surprised you by returning the smile. "If need be," she told you. "Though I think the others would be better suited to the task."

"But your company would be more enjoyable."

She… stared.

You realized your mistake all at once and scrambled to think of something that didn't sound so clingy and weird. "I-I mean, you're a lot quieter so it would be easier to rest!"

It was a weak reasoning but it was all that you'd been able to come up with.

She stared at you for a while longer, a considering look upon her face before she eventually nodded at you. "I suppose that is true. Boniface would be rather disruptive, for all he would want to cook something to make you feel better."

"And Mirabelle would be too worried," you added.

"And Isabeau might tip you into a coughing fit with the way the two of you can't seem to help telling jokes to each other," she went on.

It was nice, being able to talk to her this way. You wished that you could move closer to her, maybe lean against her shoulder or take her hand.

But you knew better than to indulge silly, selfish thoughts like that. Odile didn't like to touch people. And more than that, none of them liked to touch you. You shouldn't even think about things like that.

"Let's not get too far behind," she said, gesturing toward the others. They'd gotten pretty far ahead of you now, but that didn't matter as much in a town as small as dormont. "We'd best settle in. We have a difficult day ahead of us."

Your agreement felt hollow when all you wanted was to stay at her side and continue talking with her.

"Yeah," you agreed anyway.

You all spent the rest of the day apart.

When you ended up standing before the Favor Tree, you finally managed to gather together your repressed thoughts and feelings. You didn't want to die. Not now. Not like this.

You didn't want to die holding everything inside you. You didn't want to end up as a flowerbed to your buried feelings. You didn't think that you had much of a choice though.

Tomorrow you would fight The King.

Tomorrow you might die.

You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to watch the others die either. Maybe if you could protect them, if you could spend your life doing something worthwhile, it might not be so bad.

But…

But you…

You wanted…

You wished…

You wished…………

You whispered into the leaf, you folded it over, and then you let it go. Off into the Universe.

You spent a few minutes staring at nothing, standing in silence, feeling absolutely empty. Almost peaceful.

Eventually, you told yourself that you had to go. You had to move. You made yourself smile, you turned around, and you left the Favor Tree behind you.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Your trip into the house ended in failure.

No, worse than that, it started in failure.

But on the bright side, you could only go up from there. You failed forward through the house, slowly making your way past locked doors and traps and Sadnesses.

Mirabelle doubted herself nearly every step of the way. You wished that you could tell her how amazing she was without her looking at you like she didn't believe a word you said. You wished you could tell her that the only weak link in the party was you. You wished that you weren't the thing holding everyone back, but you also knew that you were the reason that they could make it forward at all.

Isabeau would try to cheer her up with words, which got a weak smile in turn. Bonnie would try to cheer her up with snacks, which got a much brighter, much faker smile. Odile tried to offer logic and advice, which… was the best response any of you were able to pull from her honestly.

You wished that you had the same grounded approach that Madame Odile had to helping Mirabelle. But you didn't. All you knew how to do was to open your mouth and crack jokes.

And you couldn't even do that right anymore as half the time you opened your mouth, you would cough. And then Mirabelle was right back to worrying. Right back to doubting. Right back to creased eyebrows and a small frown and biting her nails until someone else was able to take her hand and get her to stop.

"I don't know how you're always able to get through to her," you said quietly, when it was just you and Odile standing together, watching as the others talked about some diary they'd found. "Sometimes I think you're the only one she listens to."

"Perhaps," she replied, just as quietly as you. "But I would never be able to make her smile the way that you and Isabeau do. We all have our roles, Siffrin."

She was right. You all had your roles.

Odile's role was to keep Mirabelle grounded.

And your role was to die. Over and over again until your friends were finally able to make it through the house.

It was the only thing that you could do, so you might as well do it.

"We all have our roles," you repeated to yourself. Then you turned back to the room to make sure you'd gathered everything you needed to.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

When The King killed you for the first time, you'd felt helpless. It had taken everything you had just to get to The King in the first place and then he'd taken you out in one strike. One devastating blow that had shown you just how outclassed you all were.

You tried to think of anything that you could do, any way that you could move forward, but you… couldn't.

You couldn't!

All you could think about was the strange vision that you had gotten. An image of a tree sprouting up out of your chest until you were buried beneath its roots and your still beating heart dangled from one of the branches.

Was that your fate? Would that be all that you would be remembered as?

You laid in the field until Mirabelle woke you up.

And then you laid beneath the Favor Tree until the stars came out.

And then kept laying there. You kept waiting, kept watching, as your thoughts spun around you. Around and around in a big, overwhelming storm that left you thinking about everything and nothing all at once.

You weren't seeing anything that was around you. You felt the ground beneath your back, saw the branches overhead, and you thought about the way those branches stretched into the sky without ever reaching it. You thought of how hopeless it was for a tree to reach for the stars.

You wondered if it was hopeless for you to try and beat The King.

You wondered if all your desires were hopeless.

"There you are." You blinked back to reality, turning your head to the side and watching as Odile marched over to you. "We've been looking all over for you."

You found that a little hard to believe, when you've been in this same spot for most of the afternoon. Then again, they’d probably only started looking for you once you had missed dinner. There wouldn't have been any reason to think anything was wrong before that.

Odile stared down at you for a minute before lowering herself onto the ground next to you. "Alright, what is it?"

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What is what?"

Odile huffed like you were being difficult. "What is wrong, Siffrin? Mirabelle said that you were napping earlier and even as much as you like your sleep, I doubt you've been asleep this whole time." She tilted her head to look at you, but you couldn't tell what her expression meant.

For one moment, your head was completely empty. You couldn't think of a single problem, a single positive, a single fact that had led you to this moment. You couldn't think of anything you could say that would justify putting that concerned look on her face. You couldn't think of anything that was worth worrying her.

"You're thinking too hard," she told you after waiting a while for you to speak.

"H-huh?"

"I can practically see you scrambling to figure out what to say." Part of you froze at being read so easily, but Odile had always been able to read you. You'd never been sure if you were just easy to read or if she understood you better than anyone else. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, I'm not going to make you talk. I do think that you'll feel better if you talk about what's on your mind, however."

You tried to think about what you could tell her. Which of the million thoughts that were clogging up your head could you actually release into the air without feeling like they would just start eating you from the outside instead.

"I'm… worried about fighting The King."

Odile barked a laugh. "Yes, I think we're all rather concerned about that." She shakes her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Mirabelle's worry is… rather obvious, I think. And potent. Isabaeu won't dare say anything that would risk morale, but I doubt that he hasn't considered how dangerous this all is. Boniface may be young, but they are anything but stupid, they know that this is dangerous even if they have chosen to focus on everything but the fear they are surely feeling."

You waited for her to say something about herself and when she didn't, you sat up to look at her more closely. "What about you? You never talk about how you're feeling, Odile."

Silence fell between the two of you. You didn't mind. You were willing to wait for her to confide in you if you had to, if she wanted to. You wouldn't have pushed her. You never pushed any of them, too afraid of potentially overstepping the tentative place that you had been allowed.

"I'm worried that we are walking into our own graves," she finally answered, keeping her eyes on her hand, where they rested in her lap.

Your breath caught in your throat. Not because you'd been surprised by what she said, you were pretty sure you all worried that tomorrow might be your last day, but by the fact that she'd actually said it. By the fact that Odile had chosen to talk to you about her worry.

Your silence must have worried her, or maybe she felt encouraged to keep going once she'd started. You weren't sure, but either way, she had added more. "I know that it isn't appropriate to say such a thing the night before a big battle. Mirabelle would crumble if she heard me saying such a thing, and Isabeau would try fruitlessly to cheer me up. I don't find it helpful to ignore the inevitable, though."

"That isn't really fair to you," you'd told her. "That you have to keep that all bottled inside for our sake."

She looked at you, her expression a myriad tangle of sadness, bitterness, and resignation. "No, perhaps not," she admitted. "But neither is it fair to all of Vaugarde that some tyrant has decided to freeze them all in time. Neither is it fair that Mirabelle is the one that has to carry the weight of victory or defeat on her shoulders." She reached up to touch one of the gems that dangled on the end of her glasses, cradled it. "None of this is fair. Life never is. We carry on anyway… or we die. That is always how it's been."

"I won't let you die tomorrow!" You blurted out the words before you could help yourself.

She turned to look at you with more raw surprise than you'd ever seen on her face. Then it smoothed down into something softer. Pitying, maybe. Unconvinced, surely. "Siffrin…"

"I mean it," you insisted. "Maybe… maybe I can't do anything about The King yet, but I'll figure out a way. I promise… I won't let you die. I'll do anything… to keep you from dying tomorrow.."

Even if it meant throwing yourself into a meat grinder over and over and over again. Even if it meant being crushed by The King a thousand times. Even if he had to be frozen by tears or killed by Sadnesses… Even if he had to die, and die, and die, and die…

Even if the only way that he survived was as a bloody tree with its heart hanging from the branches, he refused to let her die. To let any of them die!

"That's not the sort of promise you should make Siffrin."

"But I am!" you said stubbornly. You felt a familiar tickle in the back of your throat, but you ignored it.

Odile sighed as she turned to look at you full on. "That's not the sort of weight that you should bear."

"But I will!" You moved onto your knees, just so that you could be closer to her, so that you could look into her eyes and show her that you were determined. That you meant every word that you were saying. Maybe she wouldn't believe you anyway, but you wanted her to know! You wanted her to see.

"Siffrin…" She sounded tired. You hated it.

"Odile," you said back, voice hard and certain.

She softened again. You knew it wasn't with pity that time, but you didn't know what it was. She reached out to you, placed a hand on your shoulder. You shivered under the touch, but she didn't remove it. "Siffrin, you can't make a promise like that. You don't know what will happen tomorrow. I know that you want to help, but lying… won't help me."

You felt… cold.

Something in your heart twisted painfully.

Something in your chest felt horribly broken.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say anything to try and change her mind. Anything you could think of to make her believe you!

You opened your mouth and all that came out was a harsh, painful cough. It raked your throat raw on the first few heaves, but it didn't stop.

"Siffrin?" Odile's hands tightened on your shoulders as your hands went to your throat. You were choking. You could feel something stuck in your throat. You… couldn't breathe… "Siffrin!"

Her hands tightened on your shoulder as you coughed, and choked, and wheezed.

You hunched over, one hand resting uselessly around your throat while the other hovered in front of your mouth as if you could shield her from it. You couldn't think about that though, not really. Your mind could only focus on how much you needed to breathe, how hard you were coughing and wheezing, how desperately you needed to--

You felt the wet, sticking thing land in your palm. All at once, you were free. You could breathe.

You gasped, drawing in large. desperate breaths. There was a rattle in your throat. It wasn't clear yet. something was still there. The more you gasped, the closer you got to another fit, but you couldn't stop.

You felt Odile's hands shaking where they still grasped your shoulders tightly. "Siffrin…"

You coughed.

Splatters of blood and petals hit the ground with each cough. Your eye had watered so much that you could barely see.

When you managed to blink your vision clear, you felt frozen. On the ground between you and Odile, was a flower. Not a handful of petals, but a bloodstained wisteria.

You lifted your head slightly and met Odile's horrified gaze before--

You woke up in the field, staring at the sky.

You only had three thoughts circling around in your head.

Tomorrow, you were going to die.

You were never going to see past tomorrow.

No matter what you did, how hard you tried, how much you died, you were never going to be able to get closer to Odile.

You imagined yourself as fertilizer for a wisteria tree.

You refused to move when Mirabelle came to wake you.

You refused to move at all.

You just laid still and hoped that the earth would swallow you whole while you coughed and cried and laid in a grave of your own feelings.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Your new reality became filled with flowers. It was impossible to get through an entire floor in the house without coughing. When you coughed, you found flowers with the crushed petals in your hand. The increased frequency was a lot harder to hide.

Anytime Bonnie was near you they commented that you smelled like flowers.

Mirabelle was constantly brushing missed petals off of you.

Isabeau hovered around you whenever a coughing fit started.

Madame Odile watched you like a hawk.

There wasn't anything that you could do to stop it. There wasn't a way for you to hide it anymore.

You tried to anyway.

You searched as hard as you could through the house, looking for any hint that you could find on how to beat The King. The longer your search went on though, the harder it became.

The coughing became so bad, so frequent, that they stopped asking you if you were okay after each fit. They knew you weren't okay.

Every loop you got a little more pale, a little more short of breath. Fighting was getting harder.

Trying was getting harder.

But you'd made a promise that you wouldn't let them die. You wouldn't let this all end in failure. You had to keep going for them.

"Siffrin," Mirabelle pulled you aside before your fight with The King. "Are you sure…" She looked unsure, almost afraid to say what was on her mind. She steadied herself anyway and pushed the question out. "Are you sure that you want to… that you can fight with us?"

The ever present pain in your lungs felt like a needle of ice.

"What?"

"It's just… you're… you don't look very…"

"I'm fine!" You said it too quickly. Your smile was too thin. Mirabelle didn't believe you.

Slowly, she reached out for your hands. She hesitated.

Why did they always hesitate? Why did no one want to touch you? Did they know? Could they see how selfish you were? Could they see the roots of sickness beneath your veins? Did they know that you were so disgustingly attached to them that it was bleeding out of you? Pouring out you in a mess of earth and blood and pain?

Mirabelle took your hands anyway. "You don't have to do this," she told you, soft but determined. "If you aren't feeling well, we'll… we'll find a way to fight The King all on our own! I… I know that we can do it if we just… so please… Please, Siffrin. If you aren't feeling well… if you don't think that you can do it…"

She… didn't believe in you either, did she?

Of course she didn't. Of course she didn't!

Why would Mirabelle think you were someone that she could depend on? Why would she think that she could rely on you? All you did was get in their way, slow them down, cause them trouble.

You'd never been reliable. You forgot everything. You slowed them down by losing an eye. You were no better than the parasite that was ravaging you from the inside. You were filling up the air around them, taking up precious space, smothering them, suffocating them! You were just a weight pressing down on them all. A dead weight at the end of a chain that they couldn't get rid of.

You were nothing.

You coughed into your shoulder once, twice, before getting yourself under control. You smiled at her. Weak. You knew it was weak. It was all that you could do.

"I'll be fine, Mira. I wouldn't make you do this alone."

"She's right. Siffrin." Odile stepped up behind Mirabelle. You wondered if everyone had been listening, but you didn't turn to find out. You didn't want to know. You didn't want to see what they thought about you written on all of their faces. It was bad enough seeing the way Mirabelle looked at you like you were made of glass.

You didn't want to see the way that Odile was looking at you, but you couldn't help yourself. You had to look. You had to look at her. Your hands tightened in Mirabelle's as you raised your head.

Odile's expression was… hard. Stone. There was none of the softness that Mirabelle had shown you. Odile looked at you like you were…

Like you were nothing…

"You shouldn't push yourself even harder than you already have," Odile continued. "You've already done enough. Let us take care of The King. You and Boniface can wait out here."

"What?" Bonnie yelled out. "No! No way! I'm not-"

You stopped listening.

You stopped breathing.

You stopped thinking.

You fell to your knees, hands still held in Mirabelle's. "Siffrin!"

You felt cold.

No, you felt worse than cold.

You felt like a corpse. You felt like fertilizer. You'd be better off if you curled up and died on the floor right then and there.

You all had your roles…

Your role was…. nothing…

You laughed. Or maybe you sobbed. It was hard to tell. It didn't matter when it devolved into coughing anyway. Coughing turned into choking.

You hacked up flower after flower, spitting them onto the floor at your friends feet.

You coughed and you cried and you choked and--

You woke up in a field.

That was okay. You probably wouldn't have beaten The King anyway.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You decide to focus on helping your friends. You might as well, right? You weren't good at anything else! All you could do was cough and die to The King and fail at being anything to anyone!

But maybe there was something that even someone like you could do.

So you tried to help them.

You taught Bonnie's how to fight, and you looped, and you commiserated with Mirabelle, and you looped, and you searched for a familytale, and you looped, and listened to Isabeau's troubles, and you looped, and you found a way to fight The King, and you…

And you won!

You won!

You beat The King!

You beat The King… and you looped anyway.

You… really were useless, weren't you.

You laughed so hard you cried. Then you cried so hard you choked. Then you choked so hard that you couldn't even feel Mirabelle's healing craft working on you as she desperately tried to heal you.

When you woke up again, it didn't even feel like it mattered.

Every loop you only got worse. You only got more useless. Mirabelle and Odile were probably right that they could just fight The King without you. You were barely better than dead weight at this point.

You still wanted to see her though.

Even if you knew that you didn't deserve to, even if you knew that you were a worthless, disgusting, parasite of a person, you still wanted to… be near her.

You went to get the familytale and you brought it to Odile.

You sidestepped her questions about how you knew what she wanted and you just… listened. You listened as she shared more of herself with you than she ever had before. You thought about the fact that you only had this knowledge, this moment, because you were stuck in time. You thought about the fact that she never would have chosen to share this with you if you things were normal.

Would she have told you any of this if she didn't think you were all going to die tomorrow?

Would she have told you any of this, if you hadn't manipulated her by giving her the exact thing that she's wanted all along?

Would she ever want to see you again if she knew?

"Siffrin?" You turned your head in Odile's direction, but you weren't seeing her. You weren’t seeing anything. She reached out toward you, but she stopped before touching you. "Siffrin, you're crying."

"I…" You didn't know what to say. You didn't know how to explain this.

You blinked, hoping that would get rid of the tears but it didn't. You wiped your face on your cloak, but more tears took the place of those that you were wiping away.

"I… I don't…"

Odile sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…"

She couldn't have looked anymore like she didn't believe you if she was calling you a liar to your face. You deserved that, but it made you cough a few times, anyway.

Odile slammed the familytale closed and put it on the opposite side of her on the bench. She turned to face him, reaching into her pocket and producing a handkerchief, which she offered to him.

He took it.

"Siffrin, talk to me, please. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

You… didn't know what you could say. How could you put any of your problems into words? How could you show your worthless self and talk about your selfish problems with someone like Odile? How could you let yourself bring her down that way?

"I… I didn't mean to.."

"Siffrin, it's fine. I'm not angry at you." She sighed, looking distinctly uncertain before she scooted closer to you. She still wasn't touching you, but she wasn't as careful about the distance between the two of you, either. "Just… I want to help."

"Why?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking the question. "Why do you… Why bother?"

Because at this point, you really weren't sure why she was bothering with someone like you. Someone that was so… awful.

The look Odile gave you was almost confused. "I would have hoped that it was obvious by now, but I suppose I only have myself to blame."

You weren't sure what she was talking about, but by this point your tears had stopped. At least enough that you could see her clearly.

"Siffrin, I don't enjoy seeing you in distress. If I can help you, I would like to do so. I would have thought that that was something of a given, since you saw fit to help me."

"So.. you want to help me because I helped you first."

Odile stared at him. "Do you really think so little of me that-"

"No!" You yelled louder than you meant to, immediately doubling over as coughed into her handkerchief. "No, I… I don't…"

"Calm down first, then you can try to speak."

You… tried. You spent a few more minutes coughing. When you were done, Odile handed you her canteen to drink from.

"Feeling a bit better?" she asked.

You nodded slowly.

"Good. You shouldn't hold things like this inside, Siffrin."

"You're one to talk," you muttered.

Odile barked a laugh. "I suppose that's fair. How about this, let's make an agreement. I'll talk about my problems more if you do the same."

"Will you really?" You asked quietly.

She smiled. "You can hold me to it. Once we beat The King, we'll talk."

You weren't sure if you could keep that promise, but you would try.

"Alright. Once we beat The King."

You thought that you might have been looking forward to talking to Odile.

So of course, you don't make it to The King. Stupid you forgot about the stupid rock and got stupidly crushed.

So that was a dead promise that only you remembered now.

Wouldn't be the first one, but this one… hurt… even more.

You clutched at your chest as you coughed. It was hard to breathe. It was… always hard to breathe. You didn't think that you had much time left. You needed to save them all while you still could.

If you still could.

You hadn't been doing a very good job of saving anyone.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You practically ran to the Favor Tree. You threw yourself down among the roots and beat your fist against the bark. You hit the tree over and over and over again.

"Why is this happening? Why are you doing this to me?"

You hit it harder and harder. You screamed louder and louder.

"Why? Why? WHY?"

You beat the tree until your fist was bloody and your throat was raw. You coughed in between blows, but you didn't stop. You just pounded your fist one after the other, demanding answers that you knew you would never get.

"Tell me why? Tell me!"

"Sif!"

Someone grabbed your wrist, holding it tightly. Gently.

You spun around, your eye wild as you tried to pull your hand away, only to be met with Isabeau's face staring right at you. He looked… concerned. Of course he was concerned. He probably thought you were crazy.

You probably were crazy. Who wouldn't be crazy?

Slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid to set you off, he pulled your hand away from the tree. He'd gone through so much trouble not to touch you before, but now he wouldn't let you go.

"Hey, buddy… What, uh, what did the tree do to you?"

You… couldn't tell him.

You didn't know what to tell him.

You let the tension leak out of your body. You felt exhausted. Your fist and your throat were both bloody and throbbing. You could feel the blood pooling in your mouth, but you didn't want to spit it out. Not where Isabeau could see.

Not that it would make that much of a difference when he had already seen you like… this.

"Let's get you to Mira, okay?"

You shook your head. You didn't want Mirabelle to see you like this. Not the day before she had to fight The King. She didn't need to carry your weight on top of everyone else's.

"I think I'm gonna have to veto that, Sif." Isabeau's expression was still worried, but he managed to smile at you a little bit. "'Cause see, it looks like my friend Sif hurt his hand, and I think my other Mirabelle would want to help with that if she could."

You stared at the ground. Your mouth was full of blood and petals.

"I could leave to bring her here," he started. "But I'm kind of concerned about leaving you alone right now. And also…" He looked at the tree, where your blood was splattered against the bark. "I think seeing this would make her even more worried, if I'm honest."

You thought about that. You're surprised that Isabeau let you think about it for as long as he did. Eventually though, you nodded.

"Alright! Then we'll go see Mirabelle!"

Isabeau hesitated before releasing your hand, then again before he decided to stand.

You looked to the side and spat out your mouthful of blood and petals. Isabeau didn't comment on it, but there was no way that he didn't see it. He was hovering at your side, undecided if he wanted to offer you a hand up or not.

You got up on your own. No reason to get blood all over him.

The two of you walked over to where Mirabelle was. She looked alarmed as soon as you showed her your bloodied hand.

"Oh no, what happened?" she asked worriedly. You felt the soothing balm of healing craft washing you. One hand, then the other. You… hesitated to ask her to heal your throat, but Isabeau did that for you.

"Uh, Mira? Do you think you can get his throat too? I, um, think he might have…"

Isabeau didn't have to explain further. Her hands hovered around your face as she begun to heal your throat too, soothing the raw scrape you felt from screaming and coughing.

The flowers were still there. You felt the heaviness in your lungs. Itt was still just that little bit difficult to breathe. It would get worse, you knew, the moment you laid eyes on Odile. But for now it was… manageable.

"Sif, do you want to talk about…" Isabeau trailed off, respecting you enough not to point out what happened in front of Mirabelle.

She jumped in anyway, eager to try and help. "If you need to talk, you know that we're here to listen, right?"

You shook your head and turned as if you would leave. Isabeau stepped in front of you.

"Yeah, not sure that's the best idea, Sif." He smiled at you, but it wasn't the smile you were used to. "Come for a walk with me?"

You sighed and nodded. You liked isabeau. You didn't mind spending time with him even if you were worried about what exactly he would say to you. He took you to the hill overlooking the house. The old lady that was usually there had gone, leaving the bench free for the two of you to sit on.

"So." He paused, looking at you. "Do you want to start or…"

He gave you another chance to approach this conversation on your own terms.

You… didn't take it.

"Alright, guess I have to be the one to do this," he said. He turned to properly face you, expression serious. "I wasn't going to say anything, since we have to fight The King tomorrow and all, but… I noticed that you seemed kinda sick lately?"

You nodded. You still didn't know what to say. You tried to curl into your cloak and disappear.

"Do you want to talk about that?" he asked cautiously.

"What is there to say?" you asked.

He stared at you.

He stared at you for a long time. Long enough that you were starting to suspect there had been a right answer to that question and you'd chosen wrong.

He folded his arms. "Alright, don't take this the wrong way, but… do you know what you have, Sif?"

You hesitated before nodding. Your uncertainty must have shown through.

"Alright. Okay. So. That kind of disease… it only comes from repressed feelings. So… you need to… talk about your feelings… for it to go away?"

You stared at him.

He stared back.

"That's it?" you asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that but… yeah?" He shrugged stiffly.

You knew that that couldn't be all there was to it. Part of you knew that your feelings had to be reciprocated in order to fix things. It couldn't be as simple as…

But Isabeau sounded like he knew what he was talking about. And you… you weren't even sure how you knew what you knew.

"I can't…"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Sif." He reached out for a moment, as if he was going to place a hand on your shoulder. He hesitated, nearly dropping his hand, before continuing the original action and reaching out anyway.

You flinched. but only a little.

To Isabeau's credit, he didn't remove his hand. "You can tell us anything, Sif! Whatever it is, I'm sure that any of us would be willing to listen. Just… trust in us a little bit? Please?"

You did trust them. That wasn't the problem, you just… didn't want to burden them.

"Just… think about it today?" Isabeau urged. "I know we have to fight The King tomorrow, but maybe you'd have a clearer head if you got this off your chest first? Or maybe you want to wait until after we defeat him? Just… please don't wait too long? I… don't want to watch something like this eating away at you."

Anymore, went unsaid. It was clear that he had noticed a while ago. Maybe if it wasn't for the loops, he would have waited even longer to talk to you. He didn't know that you were already much worse than whatever he'd seen before.

And… you already made a promise, didn't you? To talk to her? Even if she didn't remember, you… you promised. So you had to. You would.

After you beat The King, you would talk to Odile.

You nodded. "Alright, Isa. Thanks."

He smiled, a proper one this time. "Anytime, Sif!"

Anytime…

You… wanted to believe that.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You didn't sleep that night. You couldn't. There was too much on your mind.

You waited until everyone went to bed and then you got up and went outside to look at the stars.

You had promises to keep tomorrow, but you weren't certain that doing so would actually help you. You weren't certain that anything would help you. But you had to at least try, right? For them?

You turned when you heard the door open behind you, surprised to see Odile striding out and coming to sit beside you. "I thought I might find you out here."

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked her.

She gave you a wry smile. "I could ask you the same thing."

You turned your gaze back toward the sky. "Just… thinking. About tomorrow," you told her.

Odile's gaze didn't waiver from you. You could feel her eyes on you and it made you feel… warm. For the first time in a long time. "Yes, there is a lot about tomorrow to worry about," she agreed. "But are you certain that it isn't today's events that are weighing on you?"

You turned to look at her, wide eyed with surprise. "Huh?"

"The others were rather obvious that they were worried about you," she told you. "Mirabelle couldn't stop watching you and Isabeau was only marginally more subtle."

You lowered your face to hide in your cloak. "Oh…"

Odile smirked. "Oh, indeed. Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

You consider it, though still aren't still what to say. Your promise was for tomorrow though, so you didn't feel bad waiting.

"After we beat The King,' you told her, parroting her own words back at her. "And… only if you tell me something, too."

Odile's smirk widened. "A bargain, is it? Alright, Siffrin, you have yourself a deal. Once we defeat The King, I'll be looking forward to you fulfilling your bargain."

You would be too.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Going through the house was relatively easy.

Relatively, because you could still feel the heaviness in your lungs. By the time you got to the second floor, you were coughing more and more. By the time you got to the third floor, you were struggling to breathe.

This time, when Mirabelle tried to confront you, you didn't let her.

"We need everyone we can get, Mira. We can't afford to let me slow you all down."

She didn't like this answer. You could tell that she didn't. But she didn't try and insist that you stay behind. She hovered her hands over your body and pushed healing craft into you. It provided enough temporary relief that you thought you'd be able to get through the battle with The King, but probably not much further.

That was fine. You just needed to beat The King.

If you could do that much… if you could do that and then tell Odile how you really felt…

If you could just fulfill the promises that you made to her, you thought that you would be able to die happy.

You were practically dead on your feet by the time you finished fighting The King, but you pressed forward. You shielded Odile as you made your way to where the Head Housemaiden waited.

You… didn't think that you had the energy to make the rounds of talking to the others. You waited for everyone to go their separate ways and then you turned to face Odile, ready to keep your promise.

You opened your mouth and you… coughed.

You coughed hard and wet. Blood and flowers spilled onto the floor in front of you and pitched forward.

"Siffrin!" You were in Odile's arms before you knew it, as she kept you from falling to the floor.

"I… I promised…" You wheezed, coughing more as you tried to desperately clear the obstruction in your throat. You spat out more blood and flowers, staring at the pile of wisterias that were gathering beneath you. You couldn't let them stop you. "I said that I would… would tell you…"

You could hear the rest of your family rushing toward you. But it was distant, you couldn't really pay attention to it.

You reached up to put a hand on Odile's arm, wanting to make sure that you had her attention on you.

"Siffrin." Stars, she sounded scared. You didn't want to do that to her, but… you didn't think you had a choice. You thought you might have been out of time, so you had to do it now.

"I… was really happy… getting to know you." You coughed and coughed, but you wouldn't let that stop you. Blood was on your lips, but you just spat it out so that you could continue. "I liked… how you always listened to me… and… and spending time with you…"

There was a small burst of healing craft, but you barely felt it.

"Gems alive, Siffrin!"

"I… really care about you, Odile." You forced the words out and forced a smile to your lips while you were at it. "I… I love you. So I really want… more than anything…" Your throat felt like it might have been closing up on you. "I want to get… closer to you…"

Odile was clutching at you tightly. Your vision was blurry. Your throat burned.

You couldn't breathe…

"Gems, Siffrin, of course I feel the same!" She sounded… almost angry to say so. It made you happy to hear either way.

You smiled…

Then everything went dark.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

You didn't wake up in a field.

You could tell that almost immediately. There wasn't the blue of an open sky above you. There wasn't the hardness of the grass and ground beneath you. You didn't know where you were, but you knew where you weren't.

"Ah, you're awake." You jolted as you looked beside you, surprised to see Odile sitting beside your bed. She closed the book resting in her lap. "You gave everyone quite a scare, Siffrin."

The bags under her eyes looked even heavier. You wondered if she hadn't been sleeping well.

"S-sorry…"

"Hmm." She leaned closer to you, pressing a hand to your forehead. You jumped at the contact, and then stilled, holding your breath as if keeping still would be enough to prolong the contact. "It's not surprising," she added. "The Head Housemaiden said that you were suffering from craft exhaustion on top of… everything else."

"Oh…" You didn't know what else to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

Odile watched you closely for a moment before finally pulling her hand away, almost reluctantly. "You passed out on me before I could fulfill my end, so if you would allow me?"

She waited for you to respond. You nodded, pulling the blanket up a bit higher so that you could hide in it the same way you did with your cloak.

Odile began slowly. "I'm not as good at these… feelings talks as Mirabelle or Isabeau, but I rather thought that the two of us had an understanding."

You tilted your head as you listened to her.

"The two of them were always more alike than not. Initiating group hugs, being loud and excitable, wearing their emotions on their sleeve. It's honestly exhausting at times."

You nodded. You could definitely agree with that. You weren't as open with your emotions, but even if you were, you didn't think you'd ever be able to be as big or loud as them.

"Right," she sighed again. "I always found more similarities between the two of us. It's easier to be around you than either of them, easier to just… exist comfortably without the need to fill silence and we enjoy similar enough activities to be on our own together for far longer than the others."

You agreed. You always thought, hoped, that the two of you got along well.

"So you can see why it might surprise me to learn that you doubted my feelings enough to become sick over it." The look that she gave you was almost pained. You didn't like that you made her look that way. You had to look away before you could answer.

"It… It's not that you… did anything…" You had to say that first, because you didn't want her thinking that this was her fault. You were the one that was greedy and selfish, after all. "It's just… I know that you don't really like… feelings and touch and… and being close to people. So it's… really selfish of me to want more, isn't it?"

Odile laughed. "Siffrin, if you're selfish, then you're finding yourself in rather good company. For all that I may not seem as if I am as attached to you all, I can assure you that I am." She smiled as she looked down at him. "And it's rather cute to find out that you care about me so much."

Your face darkened and you pulled the blanket higher. "It's not…"

"It absolutely is," she said, talking over you. The teasing smile on her face lessened a bit and she leaned closer to you. She placed her hand on your forehead again and you leaned into it. "And Siffrin… I want to be closer to you, too. All of you, but also… just you."

You looked at her with your eye wide, and she looked back, unblinking.

You felt warm.

You felt good.

You didn't look away from her as you said, very softly, "I love you."

Odile's expression was just as soft as she answered. "Yes, I love you, as well. Perhaps next time it won't take you nearly dying for us to come to this understanding."

She smiled.

You smiled with her.

You felt… at peace.

#ELS Writing #Sifdile #Siffrin #Odile #In Stars And Time #ISAT #Fanfiction #ISAT Spoilers

26 notes · View notes

goldboba · 7 months ago

Text

sometimes I think of how much potential Beast Boy and Raven have as a couple and I get so sad when I realize people will never get them the way I do because DC refuse to explore their relationship so people will never understand how good they are for each other

#they need better writers who care about them both individually and as a couple #someone who actually cares enough to explore deep into their character and relationship #instead of putting them together just because “fans like them together”#bbrae #me talking

77 notes · View notes

dariusaurs · 3 months ago

Text

i think dinostar is such an interesting ship right now even if i've kind of turned away from it after this season. the problem is that it's complicated, and fandoms historically don't like nuanced situations or takes. i don't think it's fair to say darius is putting brooklynn on a pedestal, since from his perspective, she hasn't done anything wrong, and kenji has been framed as this unfair partner to her. it does feel like his feelings are very immature and more of an infatuation right now ("if he loved you half as much.."/"unless?"), especially when you compare them to kenji's own feelings for brooklynn - his girlfriend who he's loved for 6 years - but that isn't a horrible thing, it's just different. i do completely understand if people dislike the ship right now, and even criticize darius' way of handling the accidental confession, but i just think people have been way too harsh on all three of them without being willing to see that all of their perspectives are different

#like darius' whole thing this season was his tendency to say or do the wrong thing and make things awkward by complete accident #he's a very awkward person as it is and considering he's also never dealt with romantic feelings before and he didn't even mean to tell her #about them it makes sense that he once again said and did the wrong things while trying to fix it #i'm not going to judge his characterization just yet until we see how he handles his own feelings vs kenji's next season after finding out #she's alive #he was still respectful of her and i doubt after learning more of kenji's side and realizing this man genuinely does still love and miss he #that he would prioritize pursuing her romantically(especially since she already yk.. rejected him and also literally just left them all)#if anything i think the finale putting his feelings about her survival to the side and focusing on how it hurt kenji to see her alive and #leave him kind of indicates that brooklynn's not really going to be much of a love interest for darius after this #which imo as a dinostar enjoyer and professional darius lover i'm actually okay with #slightly off topic but season 2 has made me really appreciate kenlynn on its own because of how tragic and nuanced it is #so i think focusing on them instead is not only a better decision in terms of consistency and storytelling but it's just the more realistic #and satisfying choice right now #and that's not to say i think they'll be perfectly fine or even together again once they're reunited properly #in fact i very much hope she ends up alone and they all get closure from this #and there's always the possibility that later on the show might actually revisit dinostar again #which would be better than them trying to do so now in my opinion #idk this is probably a mess but i've been trying to think about how i felt about this love triangle for awhile and since s2 handled it #completely differently than i thought they would. i feel like it's not going to be that simple #and i just wish fans of all sides would kind of chill out on the characters lmao #jwct #chaos theory #jwct s2 spoilers #brooklynn jwct #jwct season 2 spoilers #dinostar #kenlynn #kenji kon #darius bowman #jurassic world

41 notes · View notes

gamerwoo · 1 year ago

Text

really sucks when you realize you and a friend have just kind of grown up as two different people and don’t mesh together like you used to and like you have so much history you don’t wanna let go of but you’re absolutely miserable in the friendship

#to delete #the girl i’ve been friends with over half my life is just so insufferable now #she’s very pick me and likes to nitpick absolutely everything for no reason #absolutely DESPISES genz and tiktok for some reason #puts down everything about me and it feels targeted but she does it in ways that it comes across like it’s not #so when i call her out on picking on dumb things like kpop fans or genz i look like a psycho bitch #she very much just has to speak up on everything she dislikes instead of just letting people be happy #like it’s shit that’s not bothering anyone #she once went OFF because i’m afraid of bugs and ‘most girls’ are afraid of bugs but SHE isn’t afraid of them #and im like yes girl we pick you please stfu #it’s always just little stuff that doesn’t matter but 98% of the time has to do w something i like or don’t like #so it feels targeted and then i speak up and the rest of our friends are like ‘calm down it’s not that deep’#idk i just like…..she feels the opposite about a lot of things i feel #and then has to act superior for being opposite of me #also being so angry over a generation of young adults/kids and an app for no reason……#idk we just don’t go well together anymore and idk how to bring it up

104 notes · View notes

bemusedlybespectacled · 5 months ago

Text

proposing what I'm going to call Gaylor's Razor, which is: never explain normal shit as being part of a secret message that can only be decoded by over-analysis.

"These Taylor Swift lyrics are actually coded messages saying that she's a lesbian and is forced to stay in the closet! Any lyrics that are clearly about being attracted to a man are just to throw us off the scent!" Sometimes people, like Taylor Swift, are straight and write about being straight, because they are straight.

"The fourth series of Sherlock was deliberately bad because it was actually a coded message to us fans that there is a secret fourth episode that will make Johnlock canon and will actually be good!" Sometimes writers (even experienced writers who are normally good at their jobs) will write something that's not good, because no one is perfect. They're not going to waste everyone's time and money and energy creating something terrible on purpose as part of a grand master plan.

"Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the Canadian Olympic ice dancers, are secretly married (with kids)! Their public relationships with people who are not each other and them repeatedly saying 'we dated as kids and now we're just friends' are just to hide the truth! Which they need to hide for some reason! Their relationship is obvious just from their physical chemistry when competing! JUST LOOK AT THIS TWO SECOND CLIP OF HIM BLINKING AT HER!" It seems counterproductive to put all that thought into hiding a relationship that doesn't need to be hidden but then also telegraph that same relationship in front of millions of people through planned choreography.

"But BB, what about times that people really are speaking in code or hiding something due to outside influences?"

If it requires huge leaps in logic, like adding all the letters in a sentence together and dividing by seventeen and that number matches the binary sequence for the color yellow so YELLOW MUST BE SIGNIFICANT, it's not a secret code.

If it requires focusing on teeny tiny details but discards huge ones, like analyzing someone's micro-expressions but handwaving away what the person is actually saying out loud with their mouth, or focusing on one specific line instead of the entire scene or song or whatever, it's not a secret code.

If both supporting and contradictory evidence are used to come to the same conclusion (ex: when Taylor says something that I interpret as gay, that means she's gay, and when she says something that I interpret as straight, that still means she's gay and just hiding it), it's not a secret code.

Trying to apply fandom meta analysis techniques to real life is a really good way of fall into conspiratorial thinking that can be easily exploited. You can totally try to predict what's going to happen in a story or choose to interpret a scene in a specific way; you can't do that in real life with real people. That way lies the kind of nonsense that leads to shit like "this image of pizza on a children's toy is actually subliminal messaging by The Cabal™ that proves that Pizzagate is real."

#personal #conspiracy theories

3K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 7 months ago

Note

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed. Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@sammysinger04 @jackrabbitem @statixx-x @xxkay15xx @lxblm

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @certainlygay

@hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair @suhmie @kidd3ath

@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos

2K notes · View notes

darlingi-loveyou · 2 months ago

Text

uhhh even more percy jackson headcanons

- there’s always music playing in the apollo cabin. they have communal playlists, but there are times when one person gets to play dj, especially when it’s relatively empty

- everyone has to emotionally prepare for audial whiplash whenever kayla gets to play music because she puts every song she has ever liked in her entire life onto one playlist, so it can go from twenty one pilots to ethel cain to beabadoobee to fifth harmony in just fifteen minutes

- will is usually pretty lenient with who gets to play what and when (he has a few clean playlists for when there are little kids present), but on days when the infirmary is packed and he’s visibly on the verge of collapse, no one dares change it from whatever kasey musgraves song he just put on

- austin exclusively plays obscure 20+ minute-long jazz songs. austin no longer has access to the cabin 7 spotify account

- there are bi-monthly meetings with all the counselors and chiron and dionysus to discuss any problems, questions, quests, deaths, fights, complaints, and other issues

- chiron ended up helping train and appointing a few other apollo kids to take up shifts in the infirmary when will accidentally fell asleep in the middle of one of said meetings. will kept insisting it was fine and that he wasn’t overworked, but eventually gave in when nico kept having to nudge him awake and chiron had to send him back to the apollo cabin early so he could take a nap

- frank cried so hard when he saw barbie that he had to leave the theater for a minute

- drew and will went to the sweat tour together

- drew actually kind of hates that charlie xcx is only really getting properly noticed now because of brat, because she’s a huge charlie fan and has been here since “boom clap”

- ever since blood of olympus, percy is genuinely terrified of getting a nosebleed. the first time it happens is when he’s sick at college and annabeth has to coach him through a panic attack

- nico isn’t actually that invested in star wars, star trek, or any other sci-fi franchise that will obsesses over, but sits through it anyways for his boyfriend’s sake

- piper and shel dressed up as different versions of chappell roan for halloween. piper was lady liberty chappell and shel was “good luck, babe” bird chappell

- every chance they get, piper and leo meet up, get jack in the box, smoke weed, and catch up in whatever car piper stole from her dad, because it helps them both feel normal

- piper and will smoke together whenever she visits camp, usually while having a shit talk session

- sally, paul, and estelle visited percy and annabeth for family and friends weekend while they’re at school, of course, but tyson, ella, hazel, and frank, piper and leo, and nico, will, reyna, and thalia (and, by nature, the rest of the hunters) all made time to stop by at various points during family and friends

- once he realized he could occasionally get away with sneaking out of olympus in the middle of the night, ganymede developed a habit of taking a walk down the beach at camp. he ran into dionysus one night and fully expected to have to fetch some fancy wine for him, or at least go back to get his chalice, unaware of his sobriety punishment, but did a total 180 when dionysus ended up being kind to him. instead, the two of them walked and talked about how much they both hate zeus, and it ended up becoming a therapy session for ganymede (think aimee’s first session in sex education)

- sally got annabeth one of those self defense keychains before she left for school

- apollo brings meg to camp every time he goes to visit his kids. on one visit, he took her, will, kayla, austin, and nico to build-a-bear. it was meg and nico’s first time going. nico was in total awe and meg cried and hugged apollo for a minute straight

- hazel prefers cartoons and animation over live-action movies and shows

- percy is really good at watercolor. rachel tries to teach him to paint and thinks he’s a prodigy until they move onto acrylics and she realizes he was just manipulating the water

- annabeth and sally both love watching the princess bride together. percy tries to watch it three separate times for their sake, like nico does with will’s sci-fi stuff, but ends up drooling on annabeth’s shoulder by the end of the movie each time

- percy desperately wanted a water bed for years when he was younger, but neither chiron nor sally would trust him with one. he eventually begged paul to get him one as a graduation present, and he put it in his cabin at camp. it lasted less than 24 hours before he popped it and woke up in the middle of the night on top of the deflated mattress, he himself completely dry but his floor absolutely soaked. dionysus made an announcement at breakfast the next morning that any mattress filled with anything except air was prohibited, and anyone else who flooded their cabin would get stable duties for a whole week

- will doesn’t like to use his plague powers very much after tsats, but he does like to give anyone who pisses him off mild-but-annoying congestion or a lingering headache

- nico and will like to do this thing to mess with people, where nico cracks will’s back or will cracks his knuckles and he lights up, usually in front of people who don’t actually know how will’s powers work

- austin is the exception to this rule; they do it in front of him because he hates the sound of people cracking their bones

- there was a point where everyone knew that will could glow except percy. he found out the hard way when he, annabeth, nico, and will were hanging out in the jackson-blofis apartment and the power went out, and nico cracked will’s spine and will started glowing. percy was so freaked out that he screamed and woke up the rest of the house

- sometimes frank eats fistfuls of shredded cheese, for the thrill

- very rarely, rachel talks in her sleep and says indiscernible bits of prophecies, both new and old. she has no idea she does it

- apollo hates leonard cohen

pt. 1

pt. 2

pt. 3

540 notes · View notes

synthetickitsune · 9 months ago

Text

Cozy and Comfy ✧ l.jh

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x gn!reader Genre: fluff Summary: Jihoon doesn’t understand why you like lying on top of him so much no matter how many times you explain. To be honest he isn't sure why he misses it when you suddenly stop but he'll get to the bottom of the mystery. Word count: 3.5k A/N: it's soft hours for woozi rn.

There are a few things Jihoon values above all else. Some of these things are his privacy and personal space - understandably so, after living and spending most of his time with twelve other guys for a significant part of his life.

However, this is his private time now and even though he might not be the biggest fan of physical affection, his hand cradles your head to his chest. His other hand is on the small of your back to reassure you he’s there.

You seem most satisfied like this, seeking out this exact position night after night whenever he comes home to you. He doesn’t mind, if he’s being completely transparent - he likes it too. This sort of intimacy that seems to help him recharge instead of draining him further. He wonders if it’s going to be the same once you live together, wonders if he’ll mind if this little ritual stops.

Jihoon remembers the beginning, when you shyly proposed the idea and he let you do whatever you wanted because he was curious. There was a wide smile on your face when you crawled between his legs and settled almost fully on top of him. You were adorable, gently rubbing your face against his chest. He teased you - are you a cat or what? He didn’t want you to get up, didn’t expect that you wouldn’t recognize the humor in his voice. Before he could say anything, his body reacted on its own to stop you. It felt even better when he was holding you, he discovered. And his touch was enough to let you know he wants you to stay right there.

And now here you are.

Today your hand is stretched slightly so you can play with his hair. It’s getting inconvenient at this length but he has to admit your attention makes it slightly better. He lets you mess with the tips and pull at them gently. He even allows you to loosely braid the strands you can reach. Maybe it’s that he’s already slowly drifting off, maybe it’s that he’s just in love.

He’d like to have more time with you, but the nights usually end like this - with him suddenly falling asleep before he can realize how tired he is and you waking him up so softly and gently he doesn’t mind it at all. It’s nice, if he’s honest. To have someone to trust, to have you slowly lead him to the bedroom. You look so sheepish after having to wake him up that it always feels like the first time you gave him the privilege to be led to your room.

It’s the perfect way to spend the night. This way he gets to fall asleep next to you twice instead of just once.

Jihoon doesn’t understand why you like lying on top of him so much no matter how many times you explain. Not that he minds - he just can’t comprehend what you’re saying to him.

He doesn’t get your excited you’re so cozy and comfy. He gets that he’s warm, sure, or that you like hearing his heartbeat. He also likes it when you sometimes sneak your hand under his shirt and put it above his heart. Just as he’s fond of moments when nothing can help you relax but lying like this while you’re both naked, with nothing but a blanket covering you. Hell, it’s nice is fine too. But the rest of it? It’s just confusing.

What he also doesn’t understand, and what pretty much solves the question of whether he’d miss lying with you like this if you stopped doing it as often, is what’s been going on these past few days.

It’s not literally always that you lie on top of him, sometimes it’s too hot or you’re just not feeling as affectionate or one of you is in pain or sick. But none of this applies now. He knows this because it’s definitely not hot, he checked that you’re feeling fine, and you’re all over him otherwise.

It’s just that you won’t take part in your little ritual.

Last night you did for a bit but you were restless and squirming until you gave up and laid tucked into his side. Now, he’s not complaining about that - it also feels nice but it’s not exactly what he’s used to and what he started to look forward to each day that he’s spending with you.

On the fourth day he cracks and once he lies down, he opens his arms for you. Jihoon knows he’s cheating because you never say no if he explicitly asks for any type of affection. He figures there’s no harm, though, thinking that maybe you’re just feeling a little self conscious as you sometimes do. He sees the surprise on your face, feels reassured by the giddy laugh from your lips and how happily you take your place where you belong. He might hold you just a little tighter for a bit. Just maybe. He pretends he doesn’t know he’s doing it.

Yet even though everything seemed fine, like things returned to normal, they didn’t. You’re trying to hide it, but it’s impossible to mask your squirming when you’re literally on top of him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed into a concerned frown. Are you feeling uncomfortable with the position all of a sudden? Are you hurt? He trusts you to say something if that was the case, but maybe you needed some encouragement? Needed him to show that he cares? His hold loses some of its strength.

“Yeah, why?” you turn your head to look at him. To your credit, you keep lying on him, and even if your voice is nothing but curious, he feels like you’re calling him out. Daring him to say he misses the affection he sometimes playfully teases you about. He contemplates for a moment before he decides that he trusts you. Really trusts you. And he’s… worried.

He might not understand what you mean by him being cozy and comfy to lay on but he knows it’s what he wants to be. He doesn’t think anything about him changed, so he wonders if maybe he did something that changed your perception of him. He licks his lips, ready, and then groans nonetheless. He knows you won’t tell anyone, but still…

“It’s just, uh, you don’t seem comfortable and I don’t know, did something happen? Did I do something?”

His hand moves from the back of your head to your face, gently caressing your face with his fingers. Did you maybe just feel uncomfortable sharing whatever is the issue with him? He doesn’t know why you’d feel that way, but he’s ready to do whatever he needs to if it means getting your trust back.

“Hey, Jihoon,” you call his name softly, as if you knew just what was going on in his head. You scoot closer to him, a movement which naturally makes him curl an arm around your waist. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing.”

“Yeah?” he asks and immediately cringes at how defensive he sounds, “Sorry.”

You smile and pull away, slowly moving to straddle him once he lets you. Soon you guide his hands back to your waist.

“Have you started working out more?” you ask and it makes the frown on Jihoon’s face deepen.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugs. If anything, it was a struggle to fit the work outs into his schedule. He couldn’t have more of them if he wanted to. “Why? Do you think I should - or should work out less?”

“No, not at all,” you’re quick to reassure him, “It’s just that your body is, uhm, harder lately.”

Your voice gets weaker towards the end, but not enough that he would have trouble hearing you, although he can’t really imagine what you mean.

“Explain?” he asks, blinking a couple times. You groan, leaning down to hide your face in his shoulder.

“It’s just that, well, usually you’re kind of soft and comfortable? Like not soft soft but just, I don’t know, nice to lay on,” you rush with the explanation but that’s okay - so far Jihoon understands nothing anyway, “But lately you’re so hard - your body, I mean. Like you’re turning into a rock or something. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it at the gym?”

It’s a bit too much information that he doesn’t know what to do with. Again, he’s not sure what you mean exactly, so he stares at you for a second or two before he finally speaks up.

“We started adding more weights recently, so maybe,” he shrugs.

“And you didn’t notice something is different?” you ask, rising from your hiding spot. You seem confused - just as confused as he is.

“Well it’s not like I poke myself to know what my body feels like, y/n,” he deadpans, “I’m more sore but something hurts all the time, so I can’t say I noticed much of a difference.”

He watches as your expression morphs into one of concern and he’s so grateful for his quick reflexes that allow him to pull you down before you can get up from his lap. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me when it hurts, right?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. He smiles softly and nods. He’s glad when you relax, but he keeps his hands on your hips anyway. “You rest enough, right?”

He resists rolling his eyes and just confirms instead. “You know I have to take care of my body if I want to do this for a long time - and that includes rest.”

“And eating proper meals,” you remind him. He chuckles, agreeing with you easily. “If you’re short on time and need a meal quickly just let me know.”

He smiles, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kisses the back of your hand. He’s grateful for you, truly. But he can’t help but wonder if you know how much you’re actually doing for him. If you’re aware even all the little things add up.

“I appreciate that, but you know I can just order-”

Before he can finish the sentence, there’s a finger pressed against his lips. He doesn’t protest upon seeing the determination in your eyes. “You know what I want to say, right?”

“Of course,” he sighs, his lips still turned up, “And you know I enjoy when you cook for me.”

The way you beam at him one would think he’s never told you before. But he did. Every time. Because it was true and the least he could do.

It gets quiet for a while, but Jihoon’s happy enough to know that nothing’s wrong. He knows his overworked muscles will eventually get stronger and heal, returning to their original consistency that was apparently soft but not soft soft. There’s always a chance that you’ll get over your fondness for this particular position, but that’s something only time will tell. For what it’s worth in the eyes of fate, he hopes you never will.

With the crisis over, his body starts to feel the day again. As if all the aches simply hid to make room for his insecurity and only now started to come back once the air cleared. He tries to push back the yawn, but fails yet again. He hears you shake your head, well familiar with the sight. He holds you tighter before you can think about leaving.

“We can move to bed, you’ll fall asleep soon anyway,” you rub your hands over his chest, but Jihoon is nothing if not stubborn. So despite his aching body, he flips you sideways and traps you between his body and the edge of the couch. He takes more pride than he probably should from the fact that you cling to him despite his not soft body. He’s holding you. He wouldn’t let you fall.

“In a while, I like this thing we have,” he mumbles, taking advantage of your face still buried in his chest where you can’t see the longing in his eyes.

You know it’s a lost fight anyway, and it’s not hard to oblige when the prize is being held by Jihoon and relaxing watching whatever you put on. He always tells you that the pillows are more comfortable than him, but you’re pretty sure you saw him frowning while you took one to put under your head.

You settle into a more comfortable position with your back against his chest and his arm loosely thrown over your waist. You can’t even remember the last time you spooned like this. It’s nice. Regardless, you miss your usual position. It allows you to watch him once he falls asleep, and his heartbeat is nicer under your palm or your ear instead of against your spine.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel as his breathing evens out against your neck. His face is buried in your hair and you don’t understand how that can be comfortable. You won’t complain, though, when you are so perfectly surrounded by his warmth. You feel your own eyes becoming heavy. You’re actually looking forward to your bed, but you don’t have the heart to wake up Jihoon yet. It’s always a gamble, trying to allow him to sleep for as long as you can without falling asleep yourself, but you have yet to lose. You are responsible for his comfort, after all. And that’s a job you do best.

Things get back to how they were eventually. Jihoon’s body regenerated enough that it’s returned to the cozy state now, even though he still has some reservations regarding the label. One day you went as far as to call his biceps squishy, which he has yet to process.

Overall, though, things are peaceful.

Just as he wanted.

Only today was tough. Really tough.

One of those days he’s so grateful he could cry for taxis being a thing. He doesn’t know how he’d make it home otherwise and still he managed to doze off in the car. At least he’s familiar enough with the route to your apartment that he can manage it even half asleep. It’s a small miracle he doesn’t stumble and fall on the stairs.

You on the other hand think it’s a miracle he’s made it this far without passing out cold.

The moment you opened the door - or more precisely the moment you had to open the door you knew something was wrong. If your boyfriend can’t even unlock the door himself, something is very wrong.

It’s heartbreaking to see him like this, but at least he’s out of it enough not to mind your concerned gaze on him as he shoos you away so he can take off his shoes. A herculean task it seems because it takes him forever. You’re close to telling him to just come in anyway when he pulls them off at the last second.

You help him straighten up under the guise of taking off his jacket - something he usually doesn’t allow either, but it’s not wildly off limits. Neither is hugging him as a greeting. If you cling to him a little to help him to the bedroom, that’s between you and the sky above because you believe he falls asleep on you for a minute there. A belief that comes concerningly close to being the truth when he blinks and looks around the room as if he had no idea where he is.

“This is the bedroom,” he slurs the words together, but at least you know he’s not sleepwalking yet.

“Yeah - look at you, Jihoon. Where else do you think we should be?” you chide, gently. He can be moody when he’s tired, though you think he’s not in a state where his brain is capable of processing something as complex as a mood.

Instead of answering, he nods in the vague direction of the living room. You have half a mind to scold him, but then think better of it. Another thing about tired Jihoon is that he’s even more stubborn.

“Okay, sure, we can go there, but wash up first, hm?” you instruct him and turn to walk away when he grabs your wrist. His hand falls limply back down, but it achieves what he wanted.

“Why? I’ll do it later,” he argues, frown pulling at his features.

“You won’t, love, and we both know it. Now, you can either wash up yourself while I heat up some food, or I can help you and then get you the food, so?”

One more thing about Jihoon is that he’s infuriatingly determined to take care of himself without relying on others. Especially when it comes to you.

He’s getting better though. You see it when his lips pout slightly but he still gets up and heads to the bathroom.

You take that as your sign to head to the kitchen to warm up the soup you made earlier. It’s not much, but you hope he’ll be stronger later and you’ll manage to persuade him to eat a proper meal. For now, though, the soup will have to do. You don’t think he would manage anything requiring him to put actual effort into eating.

Just as you begin pouring the warm substance into a bowl, you hear footsteps in the living room. You follow their trail across the room in your head and then breathe a sigh of relief at the soft thud where the couch should be. You carry the soup over, not too hot, just the right temperature to eat.

Jihoon is already sitting there, although it looks like he’d much rather fall sideways and sleep. You hand him the bowl carefully, however you never get to give him the spoon as he just drinks the liquid straight from the bowl. You sigh, but leave him to it and carry the utensil back to the kitchen. He’s done with the soup when you return, but he looks so miserable that you decide to put the dirty dish further away on the table and deal with it later.

You sit down next to him but don’t stay put for too long, lying down and opening your arms for him. He looks at you with pure confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” you sigh, motioning for him to lay down. He looks hesitant, if a bit more awake.

“I’m heavy,” he counters.

“Weighted blanket. Stop fighting and just lay down. I’ll push you off if it’s too much,” you raise your brows at him in a clear challenge. He might be more stubborn, but you’d win this fight since you wouldn’t fall asleep halfway through it. He sighs, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. He does move though, and you make space for him between your legs, helping him settle over your body. All that working out and yet he struggles to hold himself above you, his body shaking with the effort.

“It’s alright, lie down,” you coax him, slowly. He all but melts over you once your bodies touch, like butter on a warm toast. He looks so comfortable you feel a little bad for guiding him to a more comfortable position with his head on your chest. It’s for him to lay comfortably, of course, but it also gives you easy access to his hair.

First you smooth any stray hair away from his face, maybe taking just a second to caress his skin while he allows the affection. Your fingers glide through the locks without any trouble. Again and again you brush your fingers through them, enjoying the texture, scratching across his scalp like you know he likes. You think how much you’ll miss this when he cuts his hair short again.

“Stop, I’ll fall asleep,” he murmurs, words barely recognizable, “I haven’t asked about your day yet.”

You sigh - try to, really hard you try, but fail harder. You just laugh, in love.

“It wasn’t anything special,” you assure him, “There’s always later if you’re curious.”

You think he tries to nod, a little jerk of his head against your chest. He presses his face further into your chest, his ear right above your heart. You know the feeling well, holding your breath - hoping. Hoping he’ll find the same comfort in you as you find in him.

“It’s really nice,” he more so breathes than whispers. And soon enough, his breathing slows down and evens out, his body getting heavier like a blanket pushing you into the cushions of the couch.

You smile for a second, and then return to playing with his hair.

This is what home should feel like, you decide. Like the trust he puts in you by letting his guard down, like the unconditional love he shows you by always holding you while he falls asleep - but also like the safety in knowing there will be a new day and nothing will change.

You’ll still have each other.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #woozi scenario #svthub #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #woozi fluff

2K notes · View notes

obxanon · 2 months ago

Text

Addressing the OBX drama and the speculations:

Was JJ’s Death planned?

No, Rudy asked to leave the show. It wasn’t something the writers planned. He didn’t want to renew, the writers were rightfully upset and then decided to kill JJ off.

Did the writers/producers create an uncomfortable set?

No, they didn’t. This post is not true. The brothers were never inappropriate.

Was Madison a bully on set?

I’ve seen a post going around of someone saying Madison was a bully, controlling the set, and bluntly treating Rudy and crew members like crap. That is NOT true.

Was Rudy’s decision sudden?

Yes and No. No as in he let the Pates know ahead of time he didn’t want to continue (some time during the strike, so they had time to change what was already written). Yes, as in they were shocked by it.

Was there on set drama between Rudy and the Pates?

Yes, there was many disagreements/personal problems during s4. Yes, Elaine was involved and so was Lilah Pate. They are civil now.

Why did every ship but Jiara get a still?

The jiara still does exist but idk why it was not released. My source doesn’t know either and I don’t want to spread something not true. Rudy and Madison took pictures just like everybody else did.

Why did the cast chemistry seem off in part 2?

They shot episodes 1-5 first, THEN 10, then 6-9. The cast didn’t know rudy asked to leave until they received the script for episode 10. You can tell there was a drastic change between JJ and Kiara in part 2 because after the cast found out, Madison was upset with Rudy and his decision, so she didn’t put in as much effort into the scenes with him. She was upset because she knew that would mean the near end of obx and her character… in a way.

Was there alternate endings?

Yes, but that was only because they wanted to see if rudy would change his mind. There was even scenes where a funeral was shot (obviously they didn’t air it so I’m assuming they’re saving it for s5). From March-June of 2024, they spent the entire time doing reshoots of some scenes. That is why some things don’t make sense.

Did Rudy and Madison talk on set?

Yes, but not closely or anything. They’re not friends, they just did the scenes they had to do and that was it. All those people saying they’re hiding their friendship from the cameras or whatever… that is not true sorry. The pates can’t force them to act like best friends as long as they were doing their scenes.

Why did Jiara have “less” than everybody else?

It’s true that Jiara scenes were toned down. Part of it was Rudy asking for it. Madison didn’t care as much. Another part was just Rudy and Madison not doing more than what the script asked.

Was Elaine uncomfortable with Jiara scenes?

Yes, and she has been since s2. It got worse during s3 and obviously s4. That was part of the conflict.

What is the Rudy and Madison Drama?

Obviously what happened between them is private. It wasn’t the fans. The fans were more so the catalyst to something that had been brewing.

It is true that the girlfriends are involved and that they weren’t happy. Madison hurt Rudy, but not by being a bully. It was emotionally. The feeling was then returned on his end and it just got worse from there. It didn’t help when the girlfriends and fans were involved. It is true that it’s not a coincidence this happened when they both got involved with relationships. Most of you have speculated correctly, that is all I will say. I think you know by now what I’m trying to say.

Also when I say fans, I don’t mean the “shipping.” They never cared about that. What I do mean is that all this drama happened when Jiara fans were at their peak. Them wanting to see those characters together put Rudy and Madison in a problematic situation because they knew they couldn’t avoid each other on screen. Instead they just did so off screen.

Should the Writers/ Directors/ Producers stepped in?

Yes, but what I need you guys to understand is that these writers were basically father figures to those actors. They watched them grow their careers, supported them, made them who they are now. It’s hard when you spent so much time with each other and became a genuine family. Even their conflict with Elaine was hard because Jonas knew her family, his wife treated her like a daughter, and lilah treated her like a sister. They had every right to be bitter because from their POV, it’s basically like “hey I trusted you to bring my project to life and now I’m being forced to go in a direction I never wanted to go in.”

What’s going on behind the scenes right now?

A mess. They knew it would be bad but infact it is worse and they know that.

Am I reliable?

Honestly I don’t care if you believe me or not. You didn’t before and I got attacked (literal death threats in my inbox). I’m just a messenger. I’ve given you info before and clearly I didn’t lie about it. It’s up to you to decide.

505 notes · View notes

jaal-ama-daravv · 2 months ago

Text

dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene how I think an argument reconcilation scene could've went emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Mortal Argument Scene

welcome back dearies

lets not dally with this one and get right into it -

starting strong with emmrich reviewing his will and testament/s -

important, but not yet, so do go on -

the emphasis on will tells us alot. coming from a storyboarding background, its easy to see why the emphasis was put on will. emmrich chose mortality, and will thereofre face death head on, as will rook. but due to rook being younger than emmrich (in any capacity), emmrich states that rook will outlive him. now he hasn't said it yet, but his fear is about to rear its head. keep in mind throughout all of this that this man is scared of how much he adores you.

but in the same sentence, we've got, "You've... grown to mean much to me..." - head over heels in love, rip my heart out and serve it to you in a platter, my heart, body and soul is yours type o' love.

I just wanna shake him, oh i just wanna shake him like a bag of treats, but very aggressively. he is so obviously LYING, rook makes a comment earlier in the game about how he is a SHIT LIAR. it sounds the exact same. BUT, and I say but with a hint of 'ah -ha!', lets read between the lines -

I care for you Rook! Deeply. - man has never been down as bad as he is - emmrich has never felt love like this. But there are such years between us - shut up rn I shouldn't heap you with that burden - HERE. he knows that Rook loves him, he can feel it. I imagine between quests they hold eachother's hand as the read books together on the balcony. as they make tea. as emmrich shows rook his mothers recipes. emmrich knows rook loves him, he just doesn't realize can nor accept how much rook loves him.

bonus, BURDEN ME, Im begging you, to BURDEN ME.

DIVERGENCE

god it hurt to replay this scene 3 times

Path 1 - Please don't worry, Emmrich.

he also broke my heart by worrying because i too, love him

fuck this line. i love you but look, I get where emmrich is coming from, but no. no no no, no no. whats fair would the world to be ending and being able to spend every waking moment in eachothers arms, to spend the final moments of 'what if' craddling your insecurities and nurturing love. instead we at the end of the world, arguing, because both rook and emmrich are fucking terrified to lose eachother. something about 'being fair' to someone by 'leaving' them irks meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

solid and appropriate response

moving on because i have nothing nice to say

get his ass

emmrich is shockingly, overthinking the concept of death. ya know, that thing that cant be soothed or mulled over, pierces his heart and shakes his core? that, thing. yes shockingly, overthinking it. i get both perspectives here. Rook just wants to be taken serously and not for their age gap to come between the love they have finally found. emmrich so scared out of his mind he's trying to avoid it entirely. if you want a really gutteral playthrough before point of no return, pick this. I did, on my blind playthrough, it was a mistake, i cried alot.

unfortunately, very valid on both statement, but also true on both statements. Emmrich is both worried about Rook and insecure about dying. because either way, he loses rook, he loses his time with her. in this line of dialogue, emmrich is vry concerned with burdening rook with his death and the grief that will follow. Rook essentially tries to calm him in the worst way possible and it escalates. im not a fan of this dialogue path at all as the "at your age" comment is so out of pocket.

Path 2 - I mean something to you!

if you were to of told me that the purple rook option is the 'nicest' in these scenarios, I would...not believe you at all. It's still painful, but it's not an 'argument?'

strong start ngl

mans immediately defensive, but his tone of voice isn't raised like in the other scenarios. its more poised with care through it, more 'ugh, yes, i care about you, but this is about death'

in this dialogue path rook attemps to 'waylay' emmrich, aka, distract him and change the subject to something nicer, more comforting. though unfortnately, for people with crippling anxiety, nothing calms the mind when its in black and white mode.

eh, not what I would've gone with saying rook but ya know. eve before a battle, tensions high. still not great

emmrich wants to discuss being a burden to rook and rook is just not having it, im kinda into it.

again rook is trying to waylay emmrich into realising that he is overthinking things. however, to emmrich, this is real, rook may as well be dying in his arms rn. thats how real his fears are. we think back to emmrich being a child and losing his parents in a collapsed building accident. its likely he was there, and survived.

hence why it is so very important that we remember that his romance confirmation is the question, what would my parents want for me? and the answer is HAPPY WITH SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU.

he is so terrfieid of death, and you and I both know, that when you have such a fear, it is amplified by 14747% when it is someone you truly care for. let alone the type of connection these soulmates have.

emmrich desperately pleading to talk about being a burden to rook, and rook is still just going, 'no', youre my burden now.

wee woo, a winner in my books because rook is not insulting his very existence or dismissing emmrich.

rook knows that emmrich is scared and would rather talk to him about being SCARED, instead of him being a burden because she fucking loves him and would never leave him.

rook is just as scared as emmrich but in this path, is trying to level with him. this is probably the one path where it concludes and I dont have a clear answer on who said the worst shit. i dont think any of them did, it was just riddled with concern, and a lack of communication.

Path 3 - Love scares you.

Rook pointing out the obvious. blunt and to the point. I do love that Rook is able to identify this straight away

Emmrich, taken aback by the comment by Rook, because it's the truth. he is scared because he loves rook. both by actually loving her and by how much he loves her.

"I can't... at my age" Is what this line is meant to be.

But once again, and we have discovered in previous posts, Emmrich has never considered himself 'worthy' of this type of love. And now that he has the love he has craved for decades, he considers himself too old. most likely due to his belief ssystem morphing over time to, "if it hasnt happened by now, it never will" probably in his 30's. Thats almost 20 years of doubt. We know Emmrich has been in relationships and involved with others since then, but nothing that even comes close to what Rook and Emmrich have. Keep in mind as well that Emmrich hasn't formed a connection with anyone in several years and has solely focused on work (i.e., lichdom) because what else do you do when you have given up?

straight to the point again

reiterating that this is a hard topic for him - kindness in this situation would desecalate emmrich and calm his mind, but unfortunately the end of the world takes no prisoners

man is terrified of love and the grief and vulnerability that embodies it

ouch

Rook's defensiveness and frustration reaches an all time high. rook wants the love of her life to tell her that he loves her, and emmrich doesn't want to burden his love with the grief that will embody her for the rest of her days. rook walks away feeling defeated, with a hole in her heart. emmrich is left with his overthinking thoughts, and most likely spirals.

Conclusion

In their facial expressions, and I have slowed them down to each frame per second whilst analysing, and both Emmrich and Rook share the same process of emotions after Rook's final statement.

Both Emmrich and Rook start out with a cross look on their face, eyebros tilted, eyes squinted, portraying anger, which is covering defensiveness, which is a defense mechanism for being vulnerable. After Rook says their final statement, this line is what 'pulls them out' of their defensive trances, but its too late, the damage has been done. Their facial expressions switch to a more, 'oh, oh that was just said', it turns to regret. the over arching theme of the game. they regret what they said, and their pride wont let them budge rn. the argument scene is important to the romance considering what happens next in the game.

"We'll talk when we get home, Emmrich. I promise." (the reconciliation line before fighting ghil)

hit me like a frieght train that did when i found out we were in the fade for weeks. emmrich, canonically, cries alone and has cold sweats at night when he is upset. do with that information what you will. it definitely happened when rook was gone. Hence why it takes Rook dissapearing in the fade for several weeks for their walls to collapse completely.

god fight, stuck in the fade, emmrich meticulously searching for rook, crafting the fake dagger, pulling them out.

At the end of the scene, Emmrich looks frustrated and devastated. the type of facial expression where it is clear he wish that conversation had gone differently.

Emmrich has low self-esteem, there is no simpler way to put it. This is apparent in the way he holds himself, in his mannerisms, and the way he reacts to rook expressing romantic interest in him. As two examples, consider the date with Emmrich, "apart from the compliment of your interest?", and in two flirt dialogue lines, he responds stating that he is surprised rook has shown interest in him. he wants this love SO BADLY, but he is so scared especially with how much death is around them. but emmrich is braver than he believes. it just takes, almost losing rook for him to embrace it.

phew, what a rollercoaster. ill have the mortal romance scene break down for you in coming days ♥

500 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 2 months ago

Text

the grid: confesses!

Day 30 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar Piastri: someone is dense…

Your dad was busy showing you the strategy plan, one of the many perks of being Zak Brown’s daughter. You’d been working in the paddock for over a year, working as one of Lando’s main mechanics, but your dad still liked to show you the plan for the day. He would’ve probably preferred you to be into the marketing / strategy side of F1 since there’s less of a chance of you getting run over in the pitlane if you’re not in the pitlane, but the heart wants what the heart wants and it wanted to be a mechanic, more specifically, a front jackman.

“Y/n!” Lando all but jumped on your back. “Osc wants to talk to you.”

Oscar Piastri. You had been flirting with him for months. A week ago you gave up and stopped, just being friendly with him instead, since he clearly wasn’t interested.

“Where is he?” you asked, shoving him off your back.

“Driver’s room,” he shrugged. “Where else would he be?”

Oscar was a very big fan of sleeping in his driver’s room before a race, of course he’d be in there.

You made your way to the McLaren motorhome and knocked on his door. He opened it, looking flushed and shirtless.

“Hi,” you smiled. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I did- do. I do,” he nodded awkwardly. “Come in,” he opened the door enough for you to come in.

“Thank you,” you said, trying to not stare at him too hard. “What’s up?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked immediately.

You were taken aback, shocked that Oscar would ever be that direct. “No, why?”

“You’ve been… weird this week.”

“Oh! That!” you chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve just stopped flirting with you.”

His face fell. “What?”

“I stopped flirting with you?” you answered again.

“W-why? When were you flirting with me?” he asked, looking increasingly stressed.

“Why what? Why was I flirting with you?” You questioned. “Because I have a crush on you. I’ve been flirting with you since my first day.”

He sighed and put his face in his hands.

“You haven’t exactly reciprocated so I stopped. I just kind of assumed that you weren’t interested, which is fine, by the way,” you explained. “We’re great friends, I’m happy with that.”

“I’m so fucking dense,” he cursed.

You chuckled. “What?”

“I obviously like you back,” he looked back up. “I thought you were just being nice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m just as nice and touchy with Lando, of course,” you said sarcastically. “You really are dense.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t completely fucked this up yet, have I?”

You shook your head. “No,” you pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Not yet.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you,” he pressed his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You chuckled. What a dork.

Your dork.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lando Norris: years of pining…

He watched as you once again, came in from a date crying. You two had lived together since you’d finished college and moved to Monaco to start your new job (and be closer to Lando), and he watched as you tried and failed with the Monaco dating scene.

“I fucking hate men!” you cried as he held you in his arms. It had gone the same way it had all the other times, you’d come in crying, Lando would sit with you and order food, holding you and listening as you vented about this asshole guy. Honestly, it made him want to hunt them down and kill them with his bare hands, but he settled for being the kind best friend, biding his time until he could finally tell you.

“We suck,” he chuckled, agreeing.

“I just want a fucking normal, nice guy. Is that too much to ask for?” you groaned in frustration.

“Well, I’m right here,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. You were silent. He was silent. You both froze. The air in the room was much too thick.

“You mean that?” you asked, your eyes wide and staring into his. He nodded, too nervous to verbally respond.

“What guy wouldn’t? You’re perfect,” he finally whispered out. He felt how your heart beat sped up.

Then your lips were on his and he knew he was a goner.

You were perfect. And now, you were his.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lewis Hamilton: eavesdropping…

“I’m fucking in love with her, and she doesn’t even look my way,” Lewis groaned, laying back on the couch.

Never in a million years did George ever think that he’d be sitting in his hero’s drivers room with him, giving him relationship advice.

“She looks at you plenty,” he shrugged. “But she’s usually giving out to you.”

Lewis shot him an unimpressed look. “Thanks.”

George laughed. “Just ask her out!”

Lewis groaned again. Y/n Wolff. Toto’s princess. You were untouchable. You were a genius. You were beautiful, inside and out. “She hates me.”

“I don’t,” you said plainly.

Both of the men shot straight up, staring at you with wide eyes.

“I actually quite like you Lewis,” you added with a smile. “You should try asking me out sometime.”

George did everything in his power to not laugh, but he failed and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Lewis just nodded, much too embarrassed to speak.

“My dad wants you George,” you told him, actually fulfilling the reason you had come to their drivers rooms. “See you both on the grid.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

George Russell: upfront

George stood awkwardly at your door. He was finally going to do it, he was going to ask you out.

“George!” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You’re back.”

George was your neighbour, a very kind neighbour. He was obsessed with you. You were so kind, so funny, so beautiful. He had befriended you out of pure friendliness, he wanted to be a good neighbour (and he was on the HOA (Home Owners Association) of the building). Those quick conversations in the hall had turned into a monthly dinner night, and small dinner dates whenever he was in Monaco.

“I am,” he smiled, hugging you back.

You led him in, the smell of your cooking already making him salivate, but he had a question to ask first.

“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. A real date,” he said confidently, though he didn’t feel like it.

Your face broke out into a bright smile. “I’d like that too.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“Good.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Alex Albon: awkward blind date…

You sat across from Tucker, the guy your friend was ‘so sure’ you’d be interested in, with a shocked expression. There was no way he actually said what he just said, right?

“Y’know what I mean?” he chuckled at his own ‘joke’.

“No. I don’t,” you gritted out. “I think I’m going to go now, please don’t call me.”

You got up to leave, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Where would you be going?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Get off her,” a British voice demanded. Behind you were now 3 men, the 3 men you had begged to not stalk your date, but now you were pretty happy they were there. Behind you stood Alex, George, and Fernando.

“And what are you going to do about it? She’s my girlfriend-”

“No I’m fucking not,” you seethed. “Get off me, prick,” you elbowed him in the face and got your arm free, speeding out of the restaurant and handing the waitress a large tip. You turned to the 3 men, scoffed and started walking off down the street.

Alex followed behind you as George and Fernando hung back.

“I know you’re mad-” he started.

“Yeah Alex! I’m fucking pissed! I ask you to leave me alone for fucking once. To trust me once. And you can’t even do that!” you shouted.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Y/n, you don’t understand-”

“Understand what?!” you shouted, finally stopping in the street. “Understand that you don’t trust me-?!”

“That I’m in love with you!” he shouted.

You froze. “If you’re joking-”

“Why the fuck would I joke about that?”

You nodded. “It would be a pretty shitty thing to joke about.”

“I’m not joking!”

“I know!” you chuckled. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He blushed. “I…”

He gave up and kissed you again.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Daniel Riccardo: drunk. He’s drunk.

You somehow got him into his own bed, but, as per usual, he started begging you to join him, calling you his ‘personal teddy bear’.

“Y/N!” he whined. “I’m hot!”

“Take off the covers,” you instructed, chuckling at his drunken state.

“You want me to take off my clothes?” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Daniel,” you warned.

“Y/n,” he matched your tone. “Come on! We’d be so hot together! You’re gorgeous and smart and you look really good when you roll your eyes, and I always make you roll your eyes! It’s a win-win!”

You chuckled. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love!” he corrected. “Come on baby, give me a chance.”

You couldn’t even tell if he was joking anymore. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“And I can kiss you now,” he decided and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You couldn’t taste any alcohol on him. None at all.

“You liar!” you pulled away, laughing. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I needed to gauge your reaction,” he laughed. “Seems to me you agree.”

You shook your head, laughing, but kissed him again all the same.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Charles LeClerc: quite the charmer (not).

You rolled your eyes as Charles walked into the room. He was such a charmer. That’s what your mother called him anyway. Being the sister of Carlos Sainz, you grew up in the shadows which meant you were always a little different from your family. The main point being the fact that you drove on 2 wheels instead of 4, like everyone else. A MotoGP winner, that’s what you were. And as much as your parents pretended to like it, you know they would’ve preferred you pick a safer mode of racing, like horse racing or something boring.

“Y/n!” Charles cheered.

And then there was the Charles problem. Your parents were set on the idea of Charles LeClerc having a crush on you, and you having a crush on him. You thought he was nice, good looking enough, and kind, but you didn’t like like him, did you? No. Definitely not. And him like liking you back? Impossible.

“Charles!” your mother smiled. “It’s so good to see you!”

He exchanged pleasantries with her for a few moments, then finally turned his attention to you.

“Y/n, how are you?” he smiled.

“Good thanks, you?” you asked, your tone short.

“Good. I was wondering if we could talk,” he nervously fidgeted with his hands.

“We are talking,” you pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. “Somewhere private.”

“Ok?” you questioned, following him to his drivers room.

“I like you a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but Carlos will never ever let me ask you out. I just wanted to tell you just so you know why I am stand-off-ish. It is because of-”

He stopped talking because you had started kissing him. Maybe you did like him… just a little bit.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Max Verstappen: upfront, awkward, unapologetic.

Y’know those people that just never learnt manners or social cues? Yeah, that was Max. Your friends had looked at you in horror when you brought him into the group, shocked that you’d ever start a friendship with someone as awkward and socially unintelligent as him. It’s not that Max wasn’t social intelligent, he just didn’t give a fuck. If one of your other guy-friends (the ones that all thought they had a chance with you) starts talking or (god-forbid) touching you? Max is in there, getting between you two as soon as humanly possible. He clings to you like a fucking leech, and makes sure the others know it.

When you told them he had asked you out, not one of the girls was surprised. Of course, you’d said yes, and of course, you were ecstatic.

At the next get-together, Brad (one of your asshole guy-friends) asked him how he did it.

“I just asked her,” he gritted out. “She said yes, I took her out and we’ve been together since.”

Brad shook his head, chuckling. “She’s not easy to pin down.”

“She is when she wants you,” he smirked, making eye contact with you out on the dance floor.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi@linnygirl09@lanadelray1989@teamnovalak@gleeblegnarp

566 notes · View notes

yizhou-time · 1 month ago

Text

LOVE, MAYBE

MASTERLIST | WC: 1.5K | RELEASE DATE: 29/11/2024

IDOL!SEONGHWA X FEM!READER

Synopsis: Just two friends in love who let their feelings be known in the first snow of the year.

Genre: Fluff, friends to lovers.

Rina’s notes: Song's to set the mood because I listened to them when I wrote this: Really Like You - Baby Monster, Love, Maybe - Baby Monster, Try Again - Jaehyun, d.ear, Fearnot (Between you, me and the lamppost) - LE SSERAFIM, love you twice - Huh Yunjin

“Just be careful, just because it’s snowy doesn’t mean it’s not icy!” Seonghwa watches you from behind with a small smile while you walk ahead. He stands still under his umbrella while you’re crouched down in the snow, smiling when you pick it up.

The cold nips at your fingers when you dig into the snow. You pick up as much as you can fit in your hands and make a ball, you continue this process seven more times, making them vary in size as you do so. Lining them up next to each other you giggle. Your fingers are wet and cold and completely red but it’s worth it when you look back and see Seonghwa smiling back at you.

The snow falling only makes him prettier, his umbrella up to prevent him getting covered in the snow while your hair and coat are dotted with snow. It reminds you of when you went to see the cherry blossoms fall together, his umbrella up while you’re steps ahead taking in the beauty of it all (Seonghwa was busy watching you, much like now), and you smile at the memory. That day had solidified your feelings for him even more when he stood in front of you picking out the petals from your hair one by one while telling you that although you looked pretty the petals were making a mess.

He ends up crouched next to you looking at the snowballs, “It’s you!” You point at the end. “And there’s Hongjoong.” You point at the smallest snowball and he laughs. After that everything fades out, he turns to you and you look so happy explaining how each one of them are his bandmates and all he can think about is how considerate of them you really are all jokes aside, how quickly they’ve taken to you.

Seonghwa continues to watch you as you make a joke about them being snowballs and their song being called ‘Ice On My Teeth’ but when he doesn’t laugh you turn to him quietly. “Seonghwa?” His trance is broken but his smile never fades. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s missing something.” You frown but he simply passes you the umbrella and reaches for the snowball you had dubbed as him, he takes it and puts it in front of the line. Just as you go to speak he picks up some snow and makes a much smaller snowball and places it next to his so they’re just touching. “There we go. You and me.”

Your face goes red as you stare down at the snowballs. Shyly you look down before lightly bumping your shoulder into him and thus knocking him over. The pair of you laugh, you at him and him in shock. “That’s not fair!” Seonghwa complains as you stand up. He half expects you to help him but instead you stand up and turn your back to him. You dip your head down and fan your face, you place your cold hand on your cheek to try and calm the burn but nothing works.

Seonghwa stands up next to you and brushes himself off, still laughing. “That wasn’t fair!” He whines.

“Should’ve been more careful.” You laugh along with him.

The laughter dies down and eventually you’re both left staring ahead on the street smiling. Slowly you lower the umbrella and close it, now both of you are out in the snow. Seonghwa takes it from you quietly and ties it shut. The pair of you take small, hesitant steps forward as you can see the intersection where you have to split up. Both of you walk forward with not much left to say. It feels quite intimate, especially since you’re so close with your arms touching.

He can feel the back of your hand brush against his ever so slightly and it makes his heart burst. Slowly he moves in to lock your pinky fingers, standard practice for both of you when it’s crowded except the street is empty besides a few people on the other side. This point goes unaddressed by both of you, you’re as shy as each other. You silently kick some of the snow in front of you causing Seonghwa to laugh at your childish antics. He’s sure tomorrow his cheeks will hurt from how much he has been smiling today but he can’t help it, he wants to lock this feeling up in a bottle and keep it forever if he can’t have you for that long.

As you reach the lamppost on the corner of the intersection Seonghwa moves to hold your hand. You turn to him silently and he thinks you look perfect in this lighting. He thinks you look perfect anyway but it’s moments like these small intimate ones that make him realise why he fell so hard because even in the cold, in the snow, you make him feel warm and fuzzy inside and all he can do is hope he makes you feel the same way. You look down at your locked hands and watch as his thumb strokes your hand.

You can see the building his dorm is in from where you’re both standing to your right (you’re also both sure you can see San and Mingi outside in their coats playing in the snow) and you can see the way back to your apartment straight ahead. You look at both of your options and feel Seonghwa tug at your hand, turning your attention and body to him in the process.

“It’s quite cold.” He says ever so quietly.

You nod at him. “It’s snowing Seonghwa.”

“It’s the first snow of the year. Four years as friends and it’s our first time doing this together.” He sounds somewhat guilty for calling you friends but he takes a small step forward. “We should do this tomorrow too, if it snows.”

You reach up and push back some of his snow covered hair and nod in agreement. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Just as you let go of his hand his grip tightens, not enough to hurt you, he never would, but enough to let you know he doesn’t plan to let go. “Seonghwa.”

“What?” He tilts his head slightly, feeling you hold his hand again but he doesn’t call you out for it, instead basking in it. “If it’s almost midnight it’s almost tomorrow, right?”

You turn your head to the side, feeling your cheeks burn up again but rather than making a comment or laughing he leans forward and places a short kiss on the one facing him. You whip your head around to him and he’s centimeters away from your face. Seonghwa lets out a soft giggle that is music to your ears. It makes you want to stuff him into your pocket and keep him for as long as humanly possible but the next best thing is letting go of his hand and instead wrapping your hands around his waist. He’s quick to hug you back, leaning his head against yours as you rest it against his shoulder. You can feel the umbrella against your back and although it doesn’t feel the best you’re happy to be in his arms like this.

“We should probably get going.” You mumble, closing your eyes as you do.

“Probably.” Seonghwa agrees but neither of you move. “Thank you for today.”

“We should do it together every year.”

“We should do everything together all the time I think.”

“Really?” You laugh, entertaining him.

He nods firmly. “We should wake up together, eat all our meals together, clean together, watch TV together, sit together in silence, cuddle together, go to sleep together, all the time.” He states matter of factly.

“That would be nice.” You can feel yourself get sleepy, his soft tone mixed with his warmth it’s hard not to.

Seonghwa pulls back, still holding onto you though, and you do the same. His eyes scan your face for an answer and your smile is enough for him to know that you couldn’t agree more.

Silently you pull away fully and reach for his hand much like he did with you. “Let’s go home?”

“Let’s.” He puts your hand in his pocket with his and begins walking forward, you follow along quickly. Your steps aren’t as slow as they were previously but they’re by no means rushed. It feels normal, intimate, domestic, you aren’t sure you can really put a word on it but everything came naturally to the two of you. You’re just glad you’re here with him like this after trying to figure out how to deal with all these feelings after so long. Sure there will be other hurdles like touring and being busy but it’s all things you’ve dealt with before.

But right now is what matters, right now you’re going home with the person you love most in the world because he loves you back just as much and that’s all you can really ask for. Just you and Seonghwa in your own little world.

#RINA’S FICS #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez scenario #ateez au #ateez scenarios #kpop imagine #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa imagine

491 notes · View notes

monzabee · 10 months ago

Text

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!!

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

3K notes · View notes