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imaginaryf1shots · 8 months ago

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Forced | Charles Leclerc vr.

WC: 16.2K (It started as a 5K word and then I said okay 10K and things went from there)

Charles x reader

Summery: Being threatened and forced into a marriage wasn’t on your mind when you got invited to dinner by your parents.

Warnings: Cursing, forced marriage, bad parents, alcoholic parent, bad childhood, brief suicidal thoughts, half edited. tell me if I missed anything.

A.N: If you’ve read this before, no you haven’t I tried to save it to my drafts while I was at my part time job, and it showed network familiar fast-forward 2 hours and I don’t find it in my drafts, but I see it posted, It wasn’t all uploaded yet.

A/N2: If there has been a one shot I was nervous about positing, it’s this one. So many ups and downs, at one moment I thought about scrapping it but this idea has been in my mind for so long. I feel like I could’ve added so much and I have to remind myself this is a one shot and not a multiple parts series. CARLOS ver. IS COMING, not this week but I’ll start it once I have an outline.(send me ideas if you have any)

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Carlos vr.

In the heart of Monaco, where all the rich, glitz and glamorous people live, the sun dips below the horizon casting a golden hue over the famous skyline of Monaco. The city is intertwined with the rich sport of Formula One. Many of the world's richest people live there, and so does your family. The famous Italian Morelli family, the rich of the rich. Generational wealth, very old money.

The family has been close with the Ferrari family for decades, and so Morelli has invested in the company very early on and has been receiving the benefits for years now. All of the children of the Morelli are born loving everything about cars and racing cars. However the new generation, not so much, they're straying from the driving and going into different ventures, trying different things. Yourself included, maybe when you were young but as you got older you never found yourself interested in cars or any of Ferraris teams in any motorsport, the last time you were at a race was when you were 10 and your parents had to force you to go, after that your older brothers stopped going so you said why can't I stay like them and that was that.

You defied your parents when you went to your choice of university, if it wasn't for you grandfather they would've cut you off, and so you went to art school and graduated with honours, but your parents still weren't there. Your grandfather passed away a few months later making your dad the head of the family.

Since then you've stayed in Italy after going and finishing university there, just the thought about going back to Monaco was out of the question, you have only stayed there during breaks from boarding school in Switzerland, both never feeling like home to you.

However here you are on a plane to Monaco for a mandatory family gathering, apparently something big is happening. the Youngest daughter to the family, the polite and elegant girl of the family, the least disappointment to your parents.

Your father had a driver waiting for you at the airport, not bothering to come himself even though it's been a couple of years since you saw him. Nothing has changed.

Getting ‘home’ yet again no one greeted you at the door but the maid who took your bag to your bedroom, you sighed and walked into the house looking for any sign of your family. You didn’t have to look for long, you found your mother on the balcony nursing a glass of some alcoholic drink, it was just a little after noon, a sight that you’re used to since you were young, your mum always being borderline alcoholic. Your guess is that she turned to the drinks to cope with living with your father, whom she chose to stay with for the glitz and the glamour of being a Morelli.

”Mother.” You greeted her, her head snapped to look at you, some of the liquid spilling as she placed her drink down and stood up, coming up to you with very wide arms pulling you in for a hug, your arms lay limp by your side for a moment before you returned the hug with one arm.

”Oh my baby, I didn’t know when you’d be in.” She said and pulled back to look at you.

”I sent you the details.” You mutter and she waves her hand waving you off.

”Come, come sit down, want a drink?” she asked, walking over to the drinks set on the side, you grimace and shake your head.

”No thanks, it’s a bit early for me.” You sit down across from her and look at the view, the view from the penthouse overlooking the pier, as much as you don't like Monaco the views there are breathtaking. “Where’s father?”

”He’s in a meeting.” She mutters and sips from her drink.

”It’s the weekend.” You reply but she just shrugs, unless he changed, your father never had work on the weekends, he hated them, he hated working anyways so for him to do so is something out of character.

”Your brothers just went out, sadly they didn’t come with any of their children.” Your mum pouted and you rolled your eyes, your mum is so out of touch with everything regarding her family, or anything in general, she acts so oblivious to the dynamic of the family, how all of her children live in other countries have their businesses and don’t want to be associated with the family name, the name she fought so hard to have.

”Okay, well, I’m going to my room to change.” You say and walk off leaving your mum on the balcony, texting your brothers in the group chat that you arrived, you laid down on your bed and scrolled through social media to pass time, you didn’t want to be here at all.

Once your brothers came, they made it to your room, the eldest taking the spot beside you on the bed and the second taking the sofa. It’s been a couple months since you saw them, but they’ve been texting you every now and then. The eldest, Matteo, is 8 years older than you, the second, Marco, is 6 years older, and you’re all at the age now where this difference isn’t that big.

You’ve all lounged around, your laughter ringing in the otherwise silent house. When the sun sat down you were called by the maids for the anticipated dinner. Hopefully everything will go smoothly and you'll be out of Monaco by tomorrow night. When you got to the dining room your father still wasn’t present, but you each took your place at the dinner table, with your mum at the head of the table across from your father’s empty seat and your brother’s each taking a side to your father and you between the oldest and your mum. It didn’t take long before your father arrived, he didn’t bother with pleasantries or hellos, he just took his place at the head of the table and food was served. You all ate in silence only the sound of the silverware hitting the plates is heard, something your mum tried not to grimace at each time.

“So… why are we here?” Matteo asked when the silence stretched for a bit too long for his liking, and he as did everyone minus your father wanted to escape this dinner.

”I have something that I wanted to talk to y/n about and I thought it’s best if you’re all present, as it’ll affect everyone.” Your father said, placing his knife and fork down, he took a sip from his wine glass and ran his eyes over the three of you like a predator, no ounce of love in him, you held your breath in curiosity and dread as the air hummed with anticipation, whatever is about to come can't be good. “As you know, our family has ties with the world of cars and motorsports, and Formula 1 has been a cornerstone of our family’s legacy for decades.”

”Not this again.” Marco mutters and your father gives him a warning look that has Marco clenching his jaw but saying nothing.

”In recent years, and since you three refused to have any hand in the family business or racing of any kind, our influence has waned, our presence diminished.” Your father continued, his voice carrying over the silence with determination, he speaks like you're in mediaeval times Matteo rolls his eyes. Dread fell onto you, you had no idea where this is going since it has to do with you. “I believe it’s time for us to take action.” His gaze sweeping across the room. “To reclaim our rightful place among the elite of Formula 1.” His eyes fall onto you and you forget to breathe, Matteo looking from you to your father. “I just came from a meeting with a Ferrari representative and we’ve come to a conclusion, y/n, we’ve arranged for you to marry Charles Leclerc.” Your fork clatters ringing in the air, your siblings and you are in shock. “This union will restore our family’s honour and secure our place at the top of motorsports history once more.”

As the implication of the head of the Morelli family proposal, no not proposal, fact, words, order, yes his order sank in, a palpable tension hung in the air, uncertainty and apprehension heavy.

And then your brothers were shouting, waving their hands, rage filled them. As for you? You felt betrayal, this is a death sentence to all your aspirations and dreams. Your eyes filled with tears, your throat closing in on you, your eyes fell to your plate and hadn’t moved. You have no idea who Charles even is, you have no idea who any of the Formula 1 drivers are at the moment, you haven't been in that sphere in so long.

”Come one, y/n, we’re leaving.” Matteo says and pulls you up, you stand up emotionlessly, your father still silent as he watched, you followed Matteo when your father spoke just as you were about to leave the room.

”If you don’t agree, then you can all kiss your futures goodbye.” Your father said and he dapped at his mouth with the napkin before he placed it on the table, that stopped you in your tracks along with Matteo and Marco stopped his shouting. closing your eyes, you let go of Matteo’s hand, of course it wouldn’t be that easy, your father wouldn’t just tell you and let you refuse, he had another thing up his sleeve.

”What are you talking about?” Marco asked his glare speaking for itself.

”I mean that, if your sister refuses or if any of you say anything or try to stop this marriage, you Marco will find that your company is suddenly without business and thus you’ll go bankrupt and you have two girls at home and a wife to take care of, and you Matteo, your stocks will plummet and you won’t be able to find a job as long as I live, all your inheritance gone and no trust fund to rely on anymore.” Cruel, he’s so cruel, how can he be your flesh and blood, how can you be related to this man? He’d basically kick you all to the street and his grandchildren as well, he has no heart that’s for certain.

”You can’t do that.” Matteo said but his voice was weaker, he knows his father is capable of doing this and much worse.

”Oh but I can.” Your father said with a smirk, his eyes settling on you once again. “So what will you do, y/n, would you let your brothers go bankrupt leaving them and their families with no money or future? Could you have this on your conscience?”

”This wouldn’t be on hers, it’s you, you’re doing this, don’t act like an innocent by standard when you orchestrated this, this scheme.”

”You know what? go at it, do the best you can, we’re not letting y/n marry someone she doesn’t even know, who the heck is Charles Leclerc anyways, I swear to god father if you make her do this I’ll-“

”I’ll do it.” You said and all eyes snapped to you, a tear left your eye before you whipped it away not letting another one leave your eyes.

”Wh-what?” Marco asked confused by your words.

”I’ll do it, but you have to write everything down, make a contract, that if I go through with it, you’ll leave them alone, the inheritance, the trust fund, everything.”

“No, no, y/n, what are you doing?” Matteo asked shaking his head, he doesn’t like this, he doesn’t want you to do this, his baby sister.

”I’m doing the only thing I can to keep you and your family safe.” You say to his, your eyes leaving your father’s to look at him. ”You just had a baby girl, and Marco, you’re about to have a boy, I can’t let this affect you.” You say to your brothers, Marco falls in his chair in disbelief. “Do we have a deal?”

”We sure do.” Your father says with a wicked grin on his face.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Earlier that day in Monaco, Charles was on his way to what he assumed was a friendly meeting with some of Ferrari’s officials. His mind was somewhere else, he was thinking about the upcoming race, race strategies, how to secure a spot on the podium, he’s reached a point where he just wants to stand on the podium not win, just be in the top 3. He’s been struggling with the team the whole season and his personal life took a turn since the middle of the last season, it seemed to him that everything is taking a horrible turn. Little did Charles know that what’s about to come is so much worse.

As Charles enters the office, he’s met with a Ferrari executive whose name eluded him at the moment and a man he never met before, but a sense of unease crept over the monegasque man as he took in the seriousness of the situation.

”Charles,” Greeted, the man he didn't know, Charles shook his hand ever the polite man. “I’m Antonio Morelli.”

Charles recognized the name instantly, he knew the history of Ferrari and their ties with the establishment of Ferrari. “Mr. Morelli, it’s lovely to meet you.”

After they finished the introduction and sat down, Antonio sitting across from Charles started speaking. “Charles, this meeting has been set up because we need to talk.”

Confusion flickered across Charles’s features, his brow furrowing in apprehension, he had no idea what Antonio Morelli could ever want with him.

“Of course, about what?”

”It’s about your future and the future of Ferrari.” His heart sank at Antonio's words, this conversation is about to change the trajectory of his life. “As you’re well aware, your recent… actions shall we say, have caused considerable damage to your reputation and more importantly the reputation of Ferrari and the team’s standing in Formula 1.” A wave of irritation surged through Charles at the implication of Antonio’s words, but he had to bite back his tongue and stop the retort that threatened to spill from his lips. He knows this is not the time to argue, and it would only serve to worsen the situation further. “In light of these circumstances, and to save your reputation and your career.” Antonio held eye contact with the driver, his tone cold and unwavering. “I’m afraid I have no choice but to present you with an ultimatum, and you can choose whichever you like, it’s up to you.” Charles’s heart skipped a beat as he braced himself for the oncoming crash, he knew that whatever was in store for him wasn’t good. “You’ll marry y/n Morelli.” He stated as if he wasn’t just offering his daughter up to a man he didn’t know, yes he knows who he is but this is his first time meeting Charles. “Or you will find yourself without a seat in Ferrari and with no future in Formula 1.”

Silence filled the room as it seemed to spin for Charles, his mind is struggling to grasp what was just told to him, it felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him leaving him without air and leaving him reeling with disbelief.

”I uh- but I…” Charles stammered struggling to come up with something to say as his voice is barely a whisper.

”There are no buts, Charles.” Antonio heard him loud and clear, his voice cutting through the turmoil going through Charles and reaching him. “This is your only option to keep your seat, your only chance to salvage and save your seat and career in Formula 1.”

Charles thought about all he went through to reach where he is now, racing in Formula 1 was his lifelong dream and he achieved it, but he hasn’t won a championship yet, he still has so much to achieve, so much to do.

“This isn't just about you Charles, this is about Ferrari as well, its about the fans and how they view you as il predestinato.” The executive said and Charles felt a surge of resentment rise within him, his fists clenching at his sides. How dare they blame him for all their problems? How dare they use him as a scapegoat for their own failings? He knows it's not just about him, it's to distract the fans from the failed car, the tractor he and Carlos are made to drive every week.

But as he met the unwavering gaze of Antonio and the executive, Charles realised that there was no escaping the reality of this ‘predicament’. He was trapped, caught in a web of deceit and manipulation and it looked like there was no escape for him.

With a heavy sigh and his head bowed, and broken spirit he nods his head in acceptance, knowing that he had no choice but to accept. No matter how much it went against everything he believed in, he had to agree, his sense of pride taking a hit. And as he left the room, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his newfound burden, Charles could only wonder what awaited him on the other side of the impossible choice that lay before him.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Matteo and Marco both took your bag and booked you a hotel room. You had set your mind to the marriage and weren't backing down as long as your father was threatening your brothers, the only family, you count, that you have left.

It took a lot for you to make them stay back when your father called you to tell you to come home to sign the contract and to tell you what the next steps will be like. You get there and the maid greets you as usual, taking your coat, before you make your way to the office. There's a meeting table with 6 chairs placed to the side in the office, used when your father has business meetings at home, so not so often.

You place your bag on the table and sit down, your father soon walks in with a man following him. It turns out to be the lawyer, they sit across from you.

“As we've talked there's two contracts, one for the marriage, you'll share with Charles and the other for your conditions. You can start with that one.” The lawyer stated and you start reading, it takes a while as you focus on every word not wanting to miss a thing. You do find yourself getting emotional as you read, this is all becoming so real, it's actually happening. It takes a lot for you not to show the tornado of emotions swirling inside of you.

“Where do I sign?” You ask meekly and the lawyer points you to where you have to. You sign all the lines and hand him the contract.

“Okay the next one.”

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You mutter and stand up.

“Let's take a break.” Your father excuses you and you head out to the bathroom furthest from the office to hide in there as you're trying to fight the tears. You're literally signing your life away, tying yourself to a man you've never met before. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you splash some cold water onto your face to calm your racing heart. But seeing how weak you look, makes you want to cry more. A few tears manage to slip down your cheeks but you pat them away, trying not to ruin your makeup. Don’t let him see how much this is affecting you, you can’t.

Charles makes it to the address sent to him, he's led to a penthouse so big and fancy it surprised him even though he's been in many expensive houses. You can tell this is owned by a billionaire, everything is a step above all the other places he's been in, yet it looked cold, unloved and un-lived in. Charles couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, he had greed to this, this arranged marriage out of desperation to keep his career, to keep his name out of the public’s mouths, however the idea of entering a marriage with a complete stranger left him feeling uneasy. When he makes it to the office, he sees Antonio and the lawyer sitting down, the chairs across from them empty, but there’s a purse on the table. Antonio and the lawyer greet him and point him to the seat across from the lawyer, and just as he sits down, the door he closed behind him is opened, and his future wife walks in. Charles looked up the Morelli family but there weren't pictures of the adult children anywhere, when they were young there’s plenty, some at F1 races even, but after a certain point, he found absolutely nothing. What he found is the parents of the family pictured at parties and lavish ad luxuries events and trips.

Charles looked starstruck when he saw you walk in, he doesn’t know what he expected but you look absolutely nothing like your father, you look elegant, soft and so innocent. He reminds himself that you’ve also agreed to this, that you’re the daughter of the man that’s forcing him, how different can you be from your parents?

You saw him in pictures, you’ve read about him, everything you could get under your hand you’ve read. From his beginning in karting to F1, to the scandals he’s been getting into for the last year or so, how much it had affected him and his sponsors. On track he’s still doing good, the best he can in the car he’s given at least, but off track he’s living the life of a fuckboy, all that after he came out of a long time relationship. To you however he’s just the man that agreed to this marriage, to further his career to get to your family’s money, be connected to Formula 1 forever even, you don’t know but you don’t like him and dread the thought of being tied to him just like your mum is to your dad.

With heavy steps you make your way to your seat next to Charles and sit down, you refuse to look at Charles, but he kept glancing at you taking you in, your father had a smirk on his face that just irritated you to no end.

”Okay, let’s go over the key points in the contract together before you both can take it and sign.” The lawyer said. “Charles and y/n, you are both not to be seen in any romantic or intimate position with anyone but each other.” This was mainly for Charles. “The public needs to think that you’re both single for now.” Easy enough you think to yourself. “In a month's time, you’ll start being spotted with each other, but confirm nothing after about 2 months, y/n you’ll be seen at a race.” You already hated this so much. “From there you have to sell that you’re actually in love, we’ll then release a statement saying that you’re in a relationship and things look to be going good. Now, in 9 months you have to get married.”

”That’s not going to be believable, getting married in under a year of knowing each other.” Charles stated wanting to scoff at the stupid plan they had set up, you take the contract and flip through it reading all the conditions the things you have to do.

”And that’s why you’ll say that you’ve known each other for a long time, and you’ve just started dating recently.” Antonio said and gave a challenging look, that shut him up straight away.

“Why do I have to move back to Monaco?” You ask frowning, you hate this country, it may be small but you hate it, you’ve just gotten out of it permanently not even five years ago.

”Because this is where Charles lives-“ You cut your dad off.

”But he can move to Italy, it’s not that far.” Your dad wasn’t happy about you cutting him off but you didn't care, your life is in Italy not in Monaco. “And he races most of the year so he’s not in Monaco most of the time.”

”y/n, Monaco is the home of Formula 1, it wouldn’t make sense to move to Italy, keep your house there if you want and go there from time to time, but you will live in Monaco.” You huff but say nothing else, wanting this hell to end already. You’re both given pens to sign the contracts and before the ink even has time to dry you leave the room, leaving the three men watching after you.

Charles asks himself what he had gotten himself into, to him you sounded like a brat throwing a tantrum, because she couldn’t get the smallest thing she wanted, and now he’s stuck with you. Now your fates are sealed, intertwined. And you’re both losing hope.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

In the next month you don’t see Charles, he was off racing, and you were back in Italy, you’ll postpone your move as much as you can, your life is all in Italy, it’s where you’re living, working, that’s where your friends are.

Both you and Charles were sent booklets with all the information that you may be asked about for the other and you had to memorise it. You took the booklet and never bothered to open it, you weren’t about to make this easy, just because you signed doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing from here. Charles however read everything, he wanted to know who you are, he hadn’t gotten the luxury of finding a wiki page or an article about you.

The media and everyone around Charles notice a difference in him, he doesn't go out or sleep around anymore, but he’s also quieter and more reserved than before. Whenever he was asked about his mode or why he’s changed, he’d just deflect the question, change the subject or simply just shrug. Charles did find himself thinking about his future all the time, regret and second thoughts clouded his mind, but it was all too late now.

It was between races when you flew back to Monaco to meet Charles for your first ‘date’. In your time in Monaco you’ve booked a hotel room to stay in, not wanting to see your parents if not needed. You met Charles at the location sent to you by your father, you still don’t have Charles’ number.

It was a small and cosy cafe, where you’re both to sit and eat for an hour or so, there will be a paid photographer (paparazzi) waiting to snap pictures of you both. You arrived first and took a table near the window, but had your back to it, not wanting your face out there straight away. You tapped your fingers on the table as you waited for the Formula 1 driver to arrive. This ‘date’ to many would be a dream, but to you it had kept you up at night, dark circles under your eyes were covered by layers of concealer.

”Uh, hi.” Charles says and takes the seat in front of you, you give him a small fake smile in return.

”Hi.” You greet him back, and then there’s a long stretch of silence, that is so awkward you wanted to kill yourself, what do you say to your future husband that you’re forced to marry on your first ‘date’? Thankfully a waitress comes by and places two menus in front of you, and so you take your time flipping through, Charles has been here many times before, he knows what he’ll order so he takes the time to shamelessly look at you. He does admit that if it weren’t for the whole marriage thing, if he saw you somewhere he’d ask you out, too bad you’re a Morelli that he’s forced to marry. “Do you know what you’ll order?”

”Yeah, do you?”

”Yes.” You both order what you want before falling into silence. Charles clears his throat, searching for something, anything to break the awkward silence.

”So… how was your day?” He asked eventually, cringing slightly at his own words, you blink at him not expecting him to talk to you at all, you hesitate for a moment before you find your voice to respond.

”Fine, thank you.” Your tone is a little guarded, on edge, not trusting Charles, but you decide to play along and return the question. “How was your day?”

”It’s way okay.” And that was the end of it before your food arrived, you eat in silence both glancing at the other from time to time. This is suffocating, it just dawned on you that this will be your life from now on.

”This is awkward, maybe we can, I don't know, try to talk maybe?” You were uncertain and admittedly very awkward, but you have to get over the silence, you hate silence like this, you’re very talkative by nature, the only time you’re silent is when you’re uncomfortable.

”Okay, we have to act like we like each other anyways.” Charles muttered and took a sip from his water. “Did you come from Italy?”

”Yeah, early this morning, you were in Spain right?” You think you’ve seen that they were racing in Spain somewhere online.

”Yes, a couple days ago.” You nod to his words and fall silent again. “Nice weather today.”

You couldn’t help yourself but laugh, nothing is truly funny, but look at you talking about the weather and nonsense, trivial things, the irony of the situation is so funny. Charles smiles as he sees you laughing, he didn’t expect it but it’s his first time seeing you do more than a fake smile, you’re usually stoic, no emotions at all.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just this whole thing is just so…”

”Weird.”

”Yes.”

”Believe me I know.”

This breaks the ice a little, you still talk about trivial things, nothing personal at all, you talk about Italy he tells you about Spain, what countries you both think is better than the other, trivial, not important talk. But talk you did. As an hour came to close, you both paid for your part of the late lunch, Charles didn’t put up a fight when you said you’ll pay half of the food, he felt like you’re not at the point where he can offer to pay.

Walking outside you look up at him and give him one of those small smiles, that to him looked practiced and not genuine.

“I guess, I’ll see you at our next scheduled, uh ‘date’.” You say doing air quotes at the date part.

“Yeah, sure.” You turn to leave before Charles stops you. “Wait, let me get your number, so we don’t have to go through people to schedule something.”

“Great idea.” You mutter and take out your phone and you both exchange numbers. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

With that you both went on your own ways, you went to walk around and get to your hotel, the weather is nice after all, and Charles went with him in his car.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

You and Charles went on a few more ‘dates’ each one with more pictures online, no one has figured out who you were yet, something you were forever thankful for.

F1Gossip

Liked by username5, username320, and 302,582

hear me out! I think charles is over his hoe era, in the last month he’s been seen with the same girl in Monaco, Austria and Hungary. I repeat it’s the same girl.

No one knows who she is but or what she does but could this be Charles new girlfriend?

More comments

username234 honestly good for him

username20 FINALLY!! I was over him with a different girl each week 💃

username083 I wonder who she is

username72 not good enough for charles that’s for sure 🤢

username294 i bet it’s just another girl who he flies around w/ him so he wouldnt have to go out and look for one

username498 come one guys we don’t even know who she is

username903 it’s giving me gold digger vibes

username465 Charles be careful

username983 seriously these comments are not it 🙄

username438 shut up no one asked you

username983 and I don’t remember charles asking for your opinion

username438 stop asking like you know him when you dont

username983 says yyou

username474 I don’t like this 😒

username832 me neither

username094 this is whey drivers dont post their relationships because you people dont even know who the poor girl is and you’re already attacking her

username873 Olivia was better

username384 girl they ended over a year ago get over it

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You’ve seen the photos and you’re impressed with how much you and Charles managed to sell it, one thing you didn't like is the comments, you’re dreading the moment they find out who you were. You and Charles would usually meet up somewhere for half an hour, once you got the okay that the pictures were good you’d both go your separate ways. Now he has his summer break which he’s spending in Monaco, so once more you fly to Monaco to start the next part of the ‘plan’. The soft launch.

Your socials are all private, but soon you’ll have to make them public, another thing you have to change. You made it to Charles yacht in Monaco, he was already there waiting for you.

”Hi.” You greet the Monegasque, with a wave of your hand and a small smile, Charles returns your greeting and helps you get on the yacht. You settle down as Charles gets the yacht out in the water for a good spot. You brought your sketchbook with you, you’ve had a few ideas about some paintings for a gallery you wanted to be part of and inspiration just hit you that morning, so as Charles sailed for a bit you sat at the table and brought up your supplies. You’re the kind of artist that likes to sketch things out before putting them to the canvas.

”What are you drawing?” Charles asks you when he comes in.

”Just a sketch for a painting I want to do.” You say and look up at him to see him handing you a drink. “Thank you.”

”I never saw any of your work before.” Charles stated and you smile taking out your phone, you always love showing off your work. Not many people in your life were interested in art besides those you met in uni so when you find someone you just want to show them.

”I’ll show you.” Charles sits next to you and looks at the phone, and suddenly he’s seeing a side to you that he’s never seen before, your face is bright and the smile on your face is true, this is your passion. you’re explaining to him what each piece is about and what they mean, the colours, the composition, what inspired it. In the next 30 minutes he’s heard more from you than he’s heard in the last month. Charles is smiling at you when you realise you’ve been ranting for a while. “What?”

”I just never seen this side of you before.” He shrugs and you sigh leaning back in your seat, angled slightly to his side.

”We don’t know each other, I only know what I’ve seen online.” You tell him, your smile is long gone, and you find yourself needing to talk to him about the arrangement, you both have never talked about it before.

”You haven’t read the booklet?” He asked confused, he’s read his over and over again.

”Just the first page, it’s all stuff you can find online anyways, besides I bet you mine is just filled with things my parents think they know about me, but aren’t true.” Charles is confused by your words, he’s been under the impression that you wanted this marriage to happen, that this was a part of your plan. It seems to him now that your relationship with your parents is a bit rocky.

“I feel like there's a lot of things we should talk about.” Charles said as he got the feeling that maybe you aren't as welling as he originally thought.

“True, I actually hoped to talk to you.” You said and were Facing Charles fully, he also turned to face you, your knees touching lightly. “Look, I know you that we don't know each other, and that there's things that we both want to do that this marriage wouldn't allow us to do, so I have a proposal.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I wouldn't mind you being with other girls, we'll be married in a few months and i know I'm not your type, so do whatever you want just keep to discreet.” Charles was dumbfounded by your words, he cant believe that this is what you think of him. He's also a bit irritated. But what can he say, his attractivities haven't been the most private as of late. “But, I'm Keeping my house in Italy and I'll go Monaco if I have to and nothing else.”

“Sounds fair.” Charles said and you put out your hand for a handshake, which he returned. “There's no reason for us not to be friends.”

“True, I mean we're stuck together for life now.” You say and shrug. “We should take some pictures for Instagram.”

You both go out and begin the small photoshoot you had to do. Posing and taking pictures to choose one for Charles to post on his stories.

By the time the Yacht docked the sun was nearly down, Charles got off first and helped get off.

“When are you leaving?” Charles asked as you both walked to the parking lot, you rented a car this time around.

“As soon as I find a plane, I usually don't book my return flight until I'm sure we have everything we need.” You explain and he nods. “Why?”

“Well, you see…” Charles rubbed the back of his head nervously, he didn't want to bring it up but he's been putting it off for so long. “My mum wants to meet you.”

“What? Why?” you're confused why his mum would want to meet you, unless. “She thinks this is real?”

“I couldn't tell her, it would break her heart, she would feel guilty and upset and I can't do that to her believe me I tried but everytime I couldn't.” Charles went on a mini rant, now this a side to him you never saw. You can tell how much he cares and lives his mum, you couldn't say you understand his feeling but just from hearing him you can sort of empathise with him.

“Okay, I'll do it.” You say and he stops from talking and looks at you, with wide eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it means alot to you, I’ll play my part.” You shrug, not thinking much about your choice. “Practice anyway, we haven’t acted as a couple in front of anyone really.”

“Thank you.”

”No worries.”

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

The next day, you got dressed and headed to Charles’s house where his family was gathering for an early dinner and a night together, enjoying the time where the three Leclerc boys had nothing to do. When you arrived, you could hear the laughter from inside, making you pause as the nerves came at full force, your hands started to shake and you had to pause before ringing the bell a few times. Taking a deep breath you pressed the bell, and waited. The door opened and you saw Charles, he must’ve been laughing before he opened the door because he had a big smile on that showed his dimples, and they didn’t dim when he saw you. You gave him a nervous smile.

”Hey, come in.” He greeted you and walked in seeing some of his family, this must be the reason behind the smile and the friendliness. Yes Charles has never been rude to you but you wouldn't call him friendly or loving or caring. Neither have you to be honest, so you wouldn’t blame him. You give Charles a quick hug and press your cheek to his in greeting. You put on your diplomatic smile that you had perfected when you were in boarding school, and look at the Leclercs, thankfully it wasn’t the whole family, just the boys and their mother. “Maman, this is y/n, the one I told you about.”

”Ah, y/n it's lovely to meet you.” Pascal comes up and pulls up in for a hug, that you clearly weren’t expecting, your eyes went wide for a bit before you returned the hug. Her smile and hug came in as a relief amidst the lies and the unknown tension between her and Charles.

”It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Leclerc.” You say in perfect french, and pull back to see her grinning face, all your words and smiles felt hollow, meaningless , you know the truth behind all this and it isn’t easy to lie to someone who’s so affected by it.

”Oh please call me Pascal, Charles didn’t tell me you speak French.” Pascal says and pulls you behind her to the living room where the other other Leclerc boys are.(after this point everything is French between the French speakers)

”Must’ve wanted to surprise you.” You say smoothly and smile as you shake hands with Arthur before you do the same to Lorenzo, who seemed reluctant, but you think nothing of it. His brother did sleep around with lots of women recently, and you’re the first one they’ve met in a while as well.

”I wonder what else he didn’t tell me.” Pascal gives Charles a look and he shrugs with a smile, he didn’t know you could speak French, it wasn’t in the booklet, it said you speak Italian, English and German.

“Maman, I just wanted you to find out from her.” Charles says and sits down next to you on the sofa.

”y/n, you’ve come at a good time, I was finishing the food.” Pascal said and went to go to the kitchen before you stopped her.

”Do you need help?” You ask standing to follow her but she refuses your help and tells Arthur to come help her instead. With a groan the youngest follows his mother to the kitchen and you’re left with the oldest two.

”So what exactly do you do, y/n?” Enzo asks, the way he said your name left a bad feeling in you, you looked at Charles and he gave you a nod in reassurance, but it did nothing to ease you at all. You’re in the lion’s den right now.

”I’m an artist.” You say with a polite smile.

”So you don’t work.” He said simply and your smile falls.

”Enzo.”

”What? I’m just getting to know your wife.” Enzo said and you freeze. His tone is sarcastic, your heart sank and your facade dropping. “Oops not yet I guess.”

“Come on, let’s eat.” You’ve only just met Arthur but you've never been grateful for anyone in your life. Enzo leaves the room first and you turn to look at Charles with fire in your eyes.

”You told him.” You hiss glaring at the Ferrari driver.

”Yes, I had to tell someone, and he won’t tell anyone.” Charles defends himself and you roll your eyes. “Your whole family knows.”

”Yes, but you know that, why didn't you tell me?” You huff, not liking how he didn't tell you.

”I just didn’t have the chance.”

”How convenient.” You walk away from Charles and to the dining room, where they were all sitting down, the polite fake smile was back on your face. You sat down in a chair and Charles sat next to you. You were back to playing boyfriend and girlfriend, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Enzo’s eyes on you. Another thing you’ve noticed is how loving the family is, even Enzo’s anger is justified and comes out from a place of love. Your brothers love you but you weren't raised with love around you and it shows in how people act and interact with each other. You did get to know the family a lot that day, with good food, good wine, and amazing company. But at the end of the night when Pascal made Charles drive you home/hotel since he didn’t drink and you did, you sat in silence as the guilt ate at you slowly, you were looking out the window from Charles’s Ferrari watching the scenery lost in thought.

”I didn’t know you spoke French.” Charles said breaking the silence and bringing you out of your thoughts, you turn to look at him.

”Yeah, I’ve been speaking it since I was young.”

”It’s not in the booklet.” You laugh at his words and little pout he had on his face, looks like someone took reading the booklet to heart.

”Told you it’s not all true, I refused to speak French to my parents after the age of 9.” You told him and he gave you a questioning look filled with curiously, your family dynamic alway puzzling him and leaving him utterly confused. “They always wanted me to do this or that, and at home we always spoke Italian and then suddenly they wanted us to speak French, I learnt it but never spoke it in front of them, I speak six languages fluently, and know the basics of a few more.”

”SIX!” Charles is impressed, he speaks three and that was hard for him, imagine six.

”Yeah.” You chuckle at his surprise and bring out your hands to count them down. “Italian, because I’m Italian, French because Monaco, duh, German because of my school in Switzerland, English is a language everyone just learns, Spanish because I went to a trip to Spain in 8th grade and loved the language and then Dutch cause why not, and it has some similarities to German when it comes to vocabulary.”

“Wow, I’m impressed, and surprised more impressed though.” Charles says and you smile a genuine smile.

”I’m glad to impress, and if you ever need a translator you know who to find.”

Charles came to a stop in front of the hotel, he never asked why you never stay with your family when you’re here but he could only guess. “You know, you don't have to stay at a hotel, every time you're here.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” You say unbuckling your seatbelt.

”You wouldn’t.”

”I don’t know, maybe you’d have some company, I’m okay here seriously.” Charles sighed and here it is again your thoughts of him.

”I haven’t been with anyone since I’ve signed the contract.”

”Why.”

”Because no matter what, I’m not a cheater.”

”But we’re not in a relationship.” silence

”Have you been with anyone?”

”No, that’s not what i meant, I just mean that you can live your life how you want it.”

”Well, I don’t want to be a cheater we’re getting married in a few months.”

”Well, I’m not with anyone and haven’t been in almost a year.”

”Okay.”

”Okay, see you later Charles.”

”See you.”

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Charles_leclerc

Liked by Landonorris, Maxverstappen1, your username and 3,380,394 others

No place like Monaco ❤️

More Comments

username93 we saw the last slide charles

username24 Charles in his soft launch era 🔥

username37 does this mean the end to his hoe era for real

username76 I’m going to miss fuckboy Charles

username37 You’ll be missed charles 💔

username83 you all think its the same girl from the paparazzi pictures 🤔

username69 I think so, same hair and everything

Landonorris 👀

Carlossainz55 when did this happen?

username28 lol not even his friends knew

username86 I bet @/pierregasly knows what up

Pierregasly not this time

username08 can’t believe there’s a day where Pierre is as clueless as we are

username90 I bet she’ll be gone in a week or two

username87 Uh who is this?

username48 Charles be careful there’s a gold digger trying to leach of you 🤮🐍

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Charles posted a few more times, without bringing your face in continuing the soft launch part of the ‘plan’. you’ve met his mother another time, and like the first time, seeing her so happy for Charles and being in love with you left you with guilt that kept you up at night. Alas it was time for you to make your appearance at a race, your dad had talk to you on the phone and told you to hurry up, he also tried to arrange for a ‘family dinner’ that you’ve refused over and over again. With that being said you texted Charles and you both agree for you to go to the race in the Netherlands. You’ve arrived separately from Charles in, coming from Italy. Charles’s room was a suite at the hotel, with a big sofa and a king sized bed. Charles arrived a day before you and was already out for media duties for quite some time, you had a work obligation that you couldn’t get out of and you haven’t really tried.

By the time you arrived and were out of the airport and at the hotel it was already getting dark out, you got into Charles’s room with the key he left for you at the reception. The room was clean, you've noticed with his suitcase open on the side, the first thing you did was shower and get into some lounge clothes, it was an oversized set that you wore around the house when you had guests over usually, not the usual boxer shorts and bralette you enjoyed.

Your phone has been going for a good 15 minutes now, making you sigh and go to the balcony to get fresh air with your phone in hand as you willed yourself to pick up. It was night time, and you had only turned the side lamp on in the room, making very faint light come out to the outside. after staring at the screen for what felt like eternity and with a shaky breath, you finally muster the courage to pick up his latest call. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

”y/n, finally, I’ve been calling you for days now.” Your father’s voice rang through the line, it was laced with irritation and anger, all directed towards her, as always leaving her shaky and scared.

”Sorry, father, I’ve been busy.” Your voice is barely over a whisper, a strained silence hung in the air for a moment, your hold on the phone tightened.

”Look, I’ve been patient enough with both you and Charles, but if you keep ignoring me and not doing as I asked, then your brothers will bare the consequences of your action, or none there of.” His tone was serious and unyielding, making you feel like a child once more.

“We will, I promise, tomorrow I’m going to the paddock.” You tell him straight after, and you hate how you want to please him just to get him off your back, the fear in you not lessening with age, he still has a hold over you.

“Good, that’s good.” He hummed and you hear your mother talking next to him for a moment before he’s speaking again. “Your mother is asking when you’ll be over for dinner with Charles.”

”I don’t know, we’re both super busy and-“

”And nothing, you come here as soon as you can, I’ll have none of this busy nonsense.” Your father interrupts his tone firm. “It’s time for the excuses to stop, I’ve been letting you handle how you get it out to the public on your own, but what I say goes.”

”I’ll talk to Charles, we’ll-we’ll figure something out.” You mutter and tears gather in your eyes, you try to fight them but like always when it came to your father they just fall freely. No matter what, you have no choice but to complain with his wishes/demands. For some reason after meeting his family, the thought of Charles seeing yours is leaving you with a sense of dread and despair. soft sobs leave your mouth in waves, you look out at the view, you’re high, the street looks far away, and you wonder, just for a second, if you jump would you die instantly or would you be in pain, is that kind of pain better or worse that the one you’re in. shaking your head away from those thoughts, you turn to go inside.

Unbeknownst to you Charles has made it to the hotel room, just to catch the last of the conversation, and he’s heard you cry. He stood in the bedroom just watching you crumple under the weight of your emotions, a few times he had to stop himself form going to you and pulling you in for a hug.

When he sees you turning to come back inside he makes his way to the door of the room and acts like he just came in.

”Hey.” Charles greets you softly, he couldn’t act happy when he just saw you falling apart.

”Hey.” You put on a brave smile but he could see your wet cheeks and red eyes, your nose red as well. “How was today?”

”It was okay, tiring, but good.” Charles says and his eyes don’t leave your figure as he watched you escaping to the sofa where you practically had your back to him.

”That’s good, I’m tired as well, I think I’ll go to bed now.” You say and pull on the extra covers you found in the closet.

”Now? did you eat?”

“No, but I’m tired and not hungry.”

”Oh, okay, sleep well then.”

”Thanks, you too.”

Charles walks into the bedroom and closes the door lightly, you’re not sleeping and you won't find sleep for a while, your mind is swirling with emotions and thoughts that are hunting you down. You don’t cry but a few tears slip as you try not to think about what tomorrow will hold or all the things you have to do.

The next day, you wake up bright and early, before Charles’s alarm goes off, you don't need to shower since you did the night before, but you slip into the bathroom, and start on your makeup, and get dressed. You know that every single thing about you will be all over social media and criticised and analysed by thousands if not millions of people Charles has over 10 million followers on Instagram after all. When Charles was up, you were just finishing up your hair, the door was open. You heard movement from behind you and looked up through the mirror to see a shirtless half asleep Charles, his sweatpants low on his hips, your hands stopped mid air with your curling iron. You’re just a woman, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wonder, starting with his messy and tousled hair moving to his chest and arms and his abs.

“Morning.” His morning voice made you blink and look away, you had to swallow before you were able to regain your composure and your voice.

“Morning, I’m almost done.” You say and focus on not looking at him and just looking at what you were doing.

”That’s okay.” Charles says and goes to the second sink in the bathroom next to you and starts brushing his teeth, you both were doing your business in silence but your eyes wonder to him every few seconds, his eyes was half closed and he was half asleep still, so for you it was a blessing, being able to look at him as much as you wanted, so you admired him without him seeing.

You’re finished before him and leave the bathroom, it didn’t take long for him to be ready, dressed in his Ferrari team kit and a pair of skinny jeans, you bite your tongue not to comment on it, you’re not close for you to say anything about his choice of clothes.

On the ride to the track, you felt a sense of anticipation and excitement, your eyes looking outside the window taking in the city, after today your life as you know it will change. Every single thing you do will be under the microscope, you felt like a teen again but this time it’s not going to be just your parents watching, it’s going to be thousands of people, all with their opinions that they’re not afraid of saying, online at least.

”It’s going to be okay.” Charles said and you turned to look at him only to find him already looking at you. “You don’t have to be nervous, after we go inside, you can stay in my room if you want.”

”No it’s okay, I can do it.” You tell him with a grateful smile, as far as arranged marriages go, Charles isn’t the worst option, if you met in other circumstances you wouldn’t have gone for him simply for his career choice in F1 but you’re glad it’s not someone worse.

When you make it there and park, Charles gets out first and walks to your side opening the door, all with a smile on his face, he helps you out of the Ferrari and you get out and take your first look around, there’s fans everywhere all screaming and shouting his name. Some of his team are already waiting for him, and when he goes to sign caps and merch, one of the females introduces herself and stands with you. you ask her about her job and make small talk, while you’re waiting. She also gives you your pass that Charles requested and you put it around your neck.

“He’s signing a lot of things.” You observe your ‘boyfriend’ as he’s going from one person to the other.

“Yeah, he’s known for singing anything.” You hum and watch how nice Charles is with everyone. “We usually have to pull him away.”

They did pull him away and inside the paddock you guys went. Charles let you walk a bit behind him, knowing that photos of him will be taken and you’re nervous enough, he didn’t want to make it worse for you. it’s been so long since you’ve been at a race it feels like a life time ago, you forgot the sheer magnitude of the event, the air was alive with the hustle and bustle of people around you, creating an atmosphere that’s charged with excitement, and anticipation. After a long walk you make it to Ferrari’s motorhome, Charles introduces you to a few people who you can stick with when he’s on duty. His hand was on the small of your back when he was leading you through the crowds, but other than that you both weren’t showing any signs of affection at all. That didn’t change the fact that once he was in his race suit and it was hanging but his waist you were looking, it was today that you’ve realised how fit he is, he doesn’t just have a good face but a fit body as well.

Watching FP1 brought back all your memories of when you enjoyed racing, I mean how could you not, you’re a Morelli it’s in your blood. Maybe if your relationship was different with your parents who knows where you’d be today. In effort to distance yourself from your parents you’ve strayed from a lot of things that you enjoyed that they loved or wanted you to do.

Between the practice sessions Charles took you with him to get lunch at the cafeteria, he had to stick to his diet and you choose whatever you wanted. sitting down you’re soon joined by Carlos Sainz, you haven’t met him yet, but you saw him when you were looking up Charles online and his face is everywhere along with all the other drivers.

”Hey mate, you haven’t introduced us.” Carlos said and sat down across from the two of you, Charles was telling you about what to expect during the rest of the day and the next two days before he was cut off by his teammate.

”Carlos meet y/n, y/n meet Carlos.” Charles introduced you and you gave the Spanish driver a smile and offered to shake his hand.

”Hey Carlos.”

“Hello, I didn’t know Charles was bringing anyone with him today.” Carlos said before he started eating.

“Yes, I had work and we weren’t sure if I could make it or not.” Half a lie, you knew you’d be here for a while but you did have work.

“Ah, so what do you do?” Carlos asked and he was expecting to hear a model.

”An artist.” Carlos was surprised and proceeded to ask you about what kind of art, where you studied and about living in Italy. The three if you walked back to the brahe together that’s when Charles informed his teammate that you speak Spanish.

”You know y/n speaks Spanish, she says fluently but I’m not good enough to verify that.” Charles said and you gave him a look that had him laughing.

”You don’t believe me?” You ask him and he shrugs innocently.

"No need to worry, I can verify it for you." Carlos fake comforted his teammate and turned to you. "So where did you learn Spanish?"

"I took online classes when I was in 8th grade." You told him and he was impressed, you laughed at his surprised look, you are fluent and your accent is good. "I went to Spain once and just loved the language."

"Mate, she's fluent." Carlos turned to look at Charles who laughed at the two of you, Carlos then turned and continued talking to you. Charles was needed for something and so he left the two of you talking, Carlos was asking you about where you went in Spain and if you want to go again, he recommended a few places and then he learnt you spoke six languages, and so you were made to talk to him in all of them and his face was priceless, had you laughing. He may not have understood everything but he

knows enough to know you're fluent.

"Charles, where did you find this one?" Carlos joked with Charles when he came back, and that had your smile faltering and for Charles to freeze a bit, if Carlos noticed he said nothing.

“It’s a secret.”

“Fine, have your secrets.”

The rest of the day went by nicely and seamlessly, the Ferrari boys did good, no one was beating Max but they've done good. You haven't checked your phone all day, when you made it back to the hotel, Charles went to shower and you laid on the sofa to scroll through. Your Instagram account has gained over 10K followers, you had pictures of your work more than ones of you, but the secret is out, now everyone knows you. You didn't dare check Twitter; the app always scares you.

You heard the shower turn off, when you got a call from your father you contemplated not answering but knowing this would make it much worse you just picked up.

“Hello.” you say on the phone and close your eyes tight, your head on the pillow.

“What do you think you're doing?” Was the first thing you heard, he was angry very angry at what you have no idea.

“Wh-”

“Shut up I'm not done talking, do you know what you've done, why are there more pictures of you and Carlos than with you and Charles. Do you want to ruin the family reputation, do you not take this seriously?”

“What are you talking about?” Today was good. You had fun today and you've done everything he asked you to do, yes reluctantly and you push it off but you do it nonetheless, you sit up as you get agitated. “I've done EVERYTHING you asked me to do, I was just talking to Carlos, there's nothing to it.”

“Don't you fucking talk back to me young lady, haven't done anything good your whole life, you never listen, tomorrow I better see you and Charles selling this or you'll feel the consequences to your actions.” He hangs up and you throw your phone away, cursing under your breath your body shakes with sobs, your head in your hands. Nothing is ever enough for your father, you're never enough.

Charles sighs and this time he doesn't think about it he sits down beside you and pulls you in for a hug, you let him, your face hiding in his neck. Charles shushes you and holds you, you're clutching his shirt in your fist. Charles has a good heart he

doesn't like seeing people crying and he's come to see you as a friend now, a new friend that he's getting to know. It makes him angry that a father would make their daughter cry this much and wouldn't care, he feels blessed for having his parents and makes him feel bad for you. Your childhood must've not been easy. He whispers words of comfort in French and lets you let it all out, your body is shaking for a while

before you slowly stop, when Charles looks down he sees you sleeping. He moves you slowly not wanting to wake you up and carries you bridal style, and he manages to get you to bed before you begin to stir.

"What?" you say confused.

"Hey, just sleep." Charles says and pushes your hair out of your face, you look around and realise you're in his bed.

“No, this is your bed.” You tell him and try to get up but he stops you.

“Just sleep, it can't be that comfortable on the sofa.” He says and you lay back down.

“But you have work tomorrow.” You mutter and rub your eye, it's a bit sensitive from all the crying you've been doing.

“It's fine, a night on the sofa wouldn't hurt me.” Charles says with a smile but you're stubborn, you’re not about to let a man that drives fast cars for a living sleep on the sofa and wake up with back pains.

“Well the bed is big, we can share.” You say and Charles looks at you, he takes you in, you're half asleep, your eyes puffy and bloodshot with tones of worries and things to think about but here you are wanting to make sure he's okay and comfortable.

“Okay, yeah.” Before Charles could make it to his side of the bed you're already asleep, he lays there and wonders how many times you've cried yourself to sleep, how many sleepless nights you've had, how many times you went though restless days by yourself. He knows you have two brothers, he knows they're kind to you that they're not like your parents, but they're not in your life, it seemed to him that they moved out once they were old enough and forgot about you a little, both with their own lives now.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

The next morning Charles asks you what your father wanted and you didn't really want to tell him at first but he managed to get it out of you.

"Just tell me from now on, we're both in this not just you." Charles tells you as he drives to the circuit.

“But this is your life, and this is your career and I just don't want to be a burden or for you to have to think that you have to be stuck with me all day or something.” You tell him, angling yourself to face him.

“y/n, we're a team, okay, for this to work we have to be always on the same page and I consider you my friend now, so just let me help you where I can and you help me where you can okay?” You smile at his words, a team, you have someone on your team.

“Okay.”

When you make it to the circuit, it's a repeat of the day before, you stand to the side while Charles does his thing and he walks in front of you, but half way through he stops and holds his hand out for you with a smile, you blink a couple of times before you take his hand. When you get to the garage Charles is whisked away for debrief and you're left there, you were looking at his car admiring the Ferrari, when a mechanic sees you and walks over.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He asks and you look up at him with a smile.

“Yeah, it's been years since I was this close to a Formula 1 car.” You tell him, there's rumours around that you're a Morelli and everyone in Ferrari knows of your family, so it takes him by no surprise that you've been close to one before. “It's so different from the ones in the early 2000s.”

“Much different, we have done a lot of changes, look…” And he begins showing you what has changed, why cars nowadays are faster and stronger, the aerodynamics and mechanical differences, some things go over your head, but you know the basics of a formula 1 car.

When Charles finishes up, he sees you talking with the mechanic. He's leaning over the halo as he's showing you something, Charles smiles and walks over.

“Do you want to get in?” Charles asks and you turn to look at him startled, and excited, giddy even.

“Can I?” You ask with a grin and he nods, one of the PR crew takes out his phone to video this while another takes pictures, you're a Morelli and you're getting into the car and Charles is now back in a committed relationship so he's back in his good boy era, all things that made them want to document this happening.

“Place your foot here.” Charles says and points to a spot, you do as he says and he holds on to your waist as you wobble a little before you push yourself up and over the halo, he removes the steering wheel before you sit down and watches you as you get comfortable in his car. His smile is big on his face as you get excited.

“This is amazing.” You say and Charles puts back the steering wheel. You put your hands on the wheel. “So many buttons.”

“Can you reach the paddle?” Charles asked amused, he can tell that the seat is a bit big for you, you wiggle your leg and shake your head no.

“You should be thankful I'm shorter or I would've taken your seat.” You tease him and a few people laugh.

“You like the view from the car?” Charles asks and you nod looking up at him, he's leaning over the halo to look at you.

“Yeah, last time I was inside one I was like 6 or 7.” You tell him and he hums to himself, always finding something new about you, you were right about the fact that the booklet had many wrong things, it missed a lot as well.

At one point in the day Fred came over to say hello to you, he like everyone found out who you were.

“Ms. Morelli, it's nice to meet you.” You shake his hand and smile at the team principal.

“Please call me y/n, it's nice to meet you too.”

“It's been a while since we saw one of the Morelli's in the paddock.” Fred said and you felt Charles move a bit beside you. “haven't seen your father as well.”

“Yeah, well me and my siblings went to school and then uni and just were so busy.” You say and don't mention your father, he has a lot of influence in Ferrari. Charles has a hand on your back in comfort, it seems that after yesterday he's taken the role of comforting you, there's something that has definitely changed in your relationship, you've grown closer and you feel comfortable around each other.

“Yes of course, who knew it'll be Charles that'll bring you back.” He commented and you looked at Charles and smiled, he returned the smile with one of his own. You both knew the truth behind everything and it was killing you both to have to be lying to everyone like that, but why is it getting easier, why is it that since you've grown closer and find more about the other that it's not necessarily all lies.

The rest of the weekend went along great, you met a lot of people and as expected your name and your family's relation to Ferrari was everywhere. Those calling you a gold-digger have now turned to calling you attention seeker. You did post pictures of you to Instagram and the Ferrari team posted the video of you getting in the car, and somehow they found pictures of you in an F1 car from the 2000s, you've never seen that picture before but here it was. Charles texted you saying how you've been in a Ferrari way earlier than him, making you laugh imagining him pouting a little at the thought. After that weekend you've been texting more, talking more and just discovering everything about the other.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

A day before Charles has to fly to Monza you've both in Monaco for the 'family dinner' you've been dreading so much. You've made it to Charles's house to meet there before you head 'home'. Charles was in his bedroom finishing getting ready and you were on the sofa scrolling through your social media and texting your brothers to see when they'll be there.

“Is this okay?” Charles asks, coming out of his bedroom you look up from your phone and see him in a tan dress shirt, a blazer with a pair of dark pants, not skinny, he has one of his watches on and no other accessories. He. Looked. HOT.

“Yeah, just lose the jacket.” You say and stand up, he takes his jacket off and places it to the side. He holds his arms out for your opinion and you smile. Oh if you were a normal couple going to see your normal family, this would've been perfect. Instead you're going to see the man that's been threatening you both. You left your small carry-on at Charles' house, planning to head back to his, so you could fly out to Italy together.

Charles drove the small distance to your family house and parked in the space that's meant for you. You got a text from your brothers Telling you they're already there.

“Are you ready?” You ask Charles in the elevator.

“Yes, are you?” He doesn't want to see your father ever again, but this is much worse for you, you're related to that man.

“As I'll ever be.” You hesitate for a second before you say. “I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”

“you don't have to.”

“I feel like I should though.” You both don't say more on the topic, as always a maid opens the door for you, and you both step inside, you're led to the formal living room, where the guests are always hosted, can't show everyone we're normal and have normal looking living rooms, oh no what will they say about us. The looks are where formal ends, because once you walk in you smile seeing how Matteo is sat with

his legs spread, and Marco is slouched in his seat, they're both being extra with it and you and your parents know it but it doesn't mean it's not funny.

"Oh y/n, dear I haven't seen you in so long." Your mum says and walks up to you kissing both your cheeks before she moves on quickly to Charles. “You must be Charles, it's good to finally meet you.”

“It's uh, it's good to meet you too.” Charles doesn't know what he expected but it wasn't this, his eyes moved from your mother to your brothers who had their sights on him, making him a bit nervous. They're protective of you, but so is he and they might not like him for marrying you, but he doesn't like them for not taking good care of you. He shakes all their hands and you exchange hugs, you don't bother saying or doing anything with your father other than a quick hello, before you both sit on a sofa together.

It's been four months since the start of this whole thing, and here you are all gathered together, the people affected, threatened, forced and orchestrated by this marriage.

"I heard you haven't won any races this season." Marco said and your eyes snapped to him, his tone is hostel, not friendly at all.

“No, RedBull has been dominating for a while." Charles says, shaking the dig thrown at him.

“He's been on podiums though.” You find yourself sticking up for Charles, he gives you a grateful look, which you return with a smile.

“So he hasn't been winning.”

“No one has been but Verstappen.” You roll your eyes at the childish behaviour your older brothers gained suddenly.

“And you grew up in Monaco?” Matteo then asks him.

“Where are you going with this?” You ask him confused by all the questions.

“What? I'm just getting to know my brother in law.” Matteo tried to act all harmless and innocent but you know your brothers well enough to know there's more to it than that.

“No you're not, please cut it out, it's not like we're all here because we want to anyways.” Your mum gasps, you give her a look, why is she acting like this is normal? You're all been forced to be here and as innocent as she likes to act, she's always in on what your father is up to. She knows everything.

“Let's move to the dining room, why don't we?” your father says and stands up, he thrived on chaos so he's happy how things are right now, split and concur is his favourite method. Charles takes your hand in his, making you pause and look at him he mouths 'it's okay,' and you nod and try to return the smile but you’re not confident and it shows.

Your mum made your brothers sit next to each other so you and Charles sat next to each other, he's closest to your mother and you're next to your father. Food was already laid out for all of you, the start of the meal was silent.

“You know y/n, I'm so happy you're finally in a relationship.” Your mother suddenly says and you stop the fork from reaching your mouth to look at her like she's crazy.

“What are you talking about?” Did she mean you and Charles or something else?

“I'm talking about you and Charles, you silly girl.” You scoff and place your fork on the table.

“You do know that we're forced right? You were here when your husband told me.” Your father sighs not liking where this is going, he's okay with you and your brothers doing whatever to each other but for a twisted reason that is not love he hates when you speak back to your mother.

“Yes mother, and besides, Charles isn't really a golden boy to be proud of having as a son-in-law.” Marco takes the chance to bring Charles in again, he's showing him that he doesn't approve of him.

“You know if you didn't like it, why didn't you stop this?” Charles asks Marco, he's tired of being blamed and the one taking the hits when the person responsible for all of this is sitting two seats down from him.

“Because he threatened to cut us off and stop us from working.” Marco was getting agitated and angry.

“Marco shut up!” You exasperated.

“And what? You let your sister take the fall for you, so you could live happily.” Charles shot back, anger for you cursing through his veins.

“Everyone calm down.” Your mum tried to reason but everyone ignored her.

“Oh so you think you care more about her than we do, now?” Matteo sneers and you groan, this testosterone fight is only going to lead to chaos.

“I wasn't the one who left her alone.”

“Okay, you all shut up right now!” your father shouted and everyone fell silent again. “This is unacceptable, Charles and y/n will be married, and you're all going to be happy about it and that's the last I'll hear of it.”

“So now you're telling us how to feel?” The words leave your mouth before you realise, Charles takes your hand in his, and you slowly look from the plate you had in front of you and up to your father, there’s not going back now. “You've dictated our lives, and even now we're all adults you're making us do what you want, we've done

everything you've asked, but you've never been happy, we were never good enough for you.”

“Don't talk back to me.”

“No, it's not fair, you sold me to someone you don't know, I'm your daughter.” You say and turn to look at your mother. “And you keep acting like you love us, when you know everything and just do nothing, you've never stood up to us.” She takes a sip from her wine glass. “Yes, that's all you do, drink.” You stand up and throw your napkin on the plate. “Let's go Charles.”

Charles stands up and follows you out, as your father shouts after you. “You stop right there you stupid girl.”

“I'll get married, okay, I'll do it, I'll do everything in the contract, anything other than that is none of your business.” You say not turning to look at him as you spoke those words and leave your hand clutching Charles's tightly.

Charles doesn't let go of your hand, and it gives you comfort, you have someone on your side at all times now, looking at Charles you're happy it's him you'll marry and not someone else.

“Thank you.” Your voice is just over a whisper, the dinner took too much out of you.

“Why? I don't think I've made it better.”

“No, you made it all so much better.” Charles sends you a questioning look, tightening your hold on his hand. “You were by my side.”

“I'll always be on your side.” Charles says and your heart skips a beat, there, he's done it, Charles Leclerc has done it, he has your heart, it belongs to him now and there's nothing you or anyone could do to change this. Charles doesn't let go of your hand when you arrive, he just holds your hand when you're walking off to his house, not in the elevator, not until you walk in. “Come on, I think we need to talk.”

You sit on the sofa with your legs under you and Charles also sits down facing you.

“I think we should've had this conversation a long time ago.” Charles starts, your heart beats faster in your chest as your eyes meet and you both don't look away. “Why did you agree to this marriage?”

“Because my father said if I don't he’ll cut us all off, he'll make sure none of us ever find work again, and my brothers, they have families and children, I couldn't let him do that to them.” you tell him and push your hair back. “I was happy the last couple of years in Italy and then he just dropped the bomb on me, and… here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“Why did you agree to it?” You've had your theories at the start of this relationship, but as you've gotten to know Charles you realised how wrong you are.

“I know you've read all the articles about me, it's a long story but I've been with my girlfriend for almost five years when I found out she was cheating on me.- Charles said his voice soft, making you take his hand in yours and give him a squeeze. “I spiraled after that, other than racing which isn't going great, I was always drinking and sleeping around, it affected me her cheating more than I thought it'd ever way, it just shocked me and left me not knowing what to do, my reputation was going down and the sponsors were getting anxiety so your father told me if I don't agree to this I'd kiss my dream goodbye, no future in Formula 1, and I couldn't, it's been my dream and I promised my father I'd do everything I could to be world champion and..."

“You haven't made it yet.”

“No, not yet.” You smile before you laugh, Charles looks at you like you're crazy and you shake your head. “Sorry, it's just so messed up, this whole thing is just so messed up.”

”It is.” Charles chuckles and you sigh, this is all a bit too much. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

An involuntary smile makes its way to your face, you just melted, heart skipping a beat and butterflies in your stomach. the whole shebang.

“I’m happy it’s you too, Charlie.” Hearing you call him Charlie makes him smile, your gaze not straying from the other, basking in the moment, a moment you could ignore everything and everyone, a moment that’s just between you too. Maybe this whole arranged marriage thing will be okay in the end.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Next day you both fly out in Charles’s private jet with his family and team, Lorenzo is still standoffish, but now that you know that he’s in on everything you don’t blame him. He’s not rude to you at all, but he’s cold, something that you attributed to how he was raised. Even though he knows his brother is forced into it, he hasn’t been rude after the first time you met, when he just found out the truth.

The plane landed in Milan where you live, but you went with the family to Monza for the race, promising to take Charles to your studio after the weekend.

The first two days, media and FP1-2, go like how all the other races go, this time you’ve met more drivers, you met Pierre and Kika are one of the ones you met and was found talking to. You and the model exchanged details and followed each other on Instagram, you all went out to have dinner after media day, and you and Kika sat together talking all the time, with Charles and Pierre sat on each side of you not understanding how two people who just met could have this much to talk about and how you talk about everything.

pierregasly posted to their story

caption[ I think i lose my girlfriend @/charles_leclerc]

Charles_leclerc reposted to his story

Caption [looks like it mate]

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Lorenzo was watching the both of you with hawk eyes, he felt like things have changed between the two of you or you’ve become better actors, because why does Charles have his hand on the back of your chair, why is your hands laced together a lot, why are you leaning into him, are do you have inside jokes and share those knowing looks. You’re having deep conversation, a closeness and ease that hasn’t been there before. So he takes the moment you went to Charles’s driver’s room to leave your bag there and took his brother to the side.

”What’s going on with you and y/n?” Enzo asked Charles, his brows furrowing.

”What are you talking about?” Charles asked, his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding, he’s been denying his growing feelings for you, but it seemed like his brother picked up on it. “We’re just trying to make the best of a… difficult situation.”

Lorenzo wasn’t convinced he knew Charles, he knows there’s more to it.

“Don’t lie to me and don’t lie to yourself, Charles.” Lorenzo said his tone leaving no space for argument. “I can see the way you look at her, the way you care about her, you like her, and I think she likes you too.”

For a moment Charles was silent, his mind racing with emotions and he’s thinking about the time you’ve come to share together and how he’s been enjoying it. he had spent so long denying his feelings for you, burying them down, he tried to tell himself that no he doesn’t find you the prettiest most beautiful woman he has ever met, he hates when you go on rants about the things you love, he hates that you’ve picked up on so many habits he has and have come to understand him, he hates how you’re passionate and warm and kind and soft and elegant, he hates it, he just hates it. But here he is standing in front of his brother, the walls that have been down for a while are just made apparent to him, he just realised them. He nods, and a smile slowly appears on his face.

”Yeah, I do, I do like her.” Charles says his eyes are not meeting his brother’s as he’s lost in thought, his brows move slightly together and then he’s shaking his head no. “No, actually I love her.”

Lorenzo’s expression softened at his brother’s admission, a sense of understanding coming over him. “Then just embrace it, and let her know.”

”I just wish we met under different circumstances.” Charles confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “But either way, I’m just glad that fate brought y/n into my life.”

And as they stood there in the hustle and bustle of the garage, Charles knew that he’s ready, he’s ready to tell you what he feels and maybe start dating for real this time, have a samples of normality in your relationship before you get married.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

After Sunday, Charles’s family flies back to Monaco and the Ferrari driver comes with you to Milan.

“Promise me you won’t judge.” You say to Charles after you turn to look at him, your studio’s key is already in the door waiting for you to twist it.

”I promise, mon amour.” Charles says and your face lights up at his pet name, you couch and turn to face the door.

”Didn’t have to say that.” You mutter and feel your cheeks turn pink, you open the door and lead Charles in, the big windows let in so much light but you go and turn on the light as well. The studios was spacious with high ceiling, paintings where leaning on the wall, a couple were covered, there was pain stains on the ground on the walls, there was a small kitchen to the side and a bathroom, there’s a pull out sofa against one wall with a few chairs littering the place and table with wheels, a table with no wheels, drawers of supplies and easels. This place truly looked like an artist's dream, it was messy but organised, it was all you.

”Wow.” Charles says and walks to the wall that had paintings on it, you follow him, keeping your eyes on him as you take in every little reaction he has. “You’re so talented y/n.”

”Thank you.” You reply softly. “You can flip through the paintings if you want, I'll make us tea.”

Charles has seen a lot of your work on your instagram and you’ve shown him a lot but seeing them in real life he realised they weren’t given justice with the photos, there’s so much detail in the work you’ve done, each brush stroke pressed with intention. Charles moved to the two covered ones, they were on the big size, his curiosity got the best of him and he pulled the fabric down.

”Wait Charles-“ It was too late, he saw them, his mouth hanging open as he stared at… himself.

“That’s-that’s me.” You sigh feeling embarrassed, your face turning red.

”Yeah.” You mumble and cough.

”Fucking hell, mon amour.” Charles turns to look at you and you’re looking away refusing to look in his direction, his eyes soften at your embarrassment. Charles walks up to you and you’re refusing to look at him, so gently cups your cheeks and your eyes meet his, getting lost in the shades of blue and green in his eyes. the shades you know from memory, the colours you painted and brought to life on your canvas. Charle’s breath gets caught in his throat, the words he was planning to say slipping from his mind, so he just presses his lips to yours, you gasp a little before following his lead, your hands clutching his shirt. It’s a moment of vulnerability, the product of simmering feelings that bubbled to reach the surface. your kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, as you’re trying to pour all your pent-up feeling, emotions and desires into this single electrifying moment. You move closer, your bodies pressed together, holding to each other’s curves, the intensity bordering on desperation.

When you broke apart, gasping for breath Charles’s hands are still cupping your face, his eyes ablaze with fire that threatened to consume you both.

”I love you, y/n.” He whispered, his voice raw with emotion, your heart swelled with joy at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reaches up to caress his cheek.

“And I love you Charles, with everything that I am.”

With a shared understanding and longing and love you sealed the moment with another searing kiss, letting together us a oissionate embrace that seemed to stretch on forever. In that moment, amidst the quietness of the studio, you were no longer bound by a contract, but by the pure and unadulterated love for each other. In each other’s arms you’ve found the only solace and sanctuary you’ve ever needed or wanted.

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

It’s not to say that everything turned out to be what you wanted, in a couple months and while Charles was on his winter break your wedding was set. There was no talking your father out of it, but you weren’t dreading the moment anymore. You know that fate was going to bring you together in the end, one way or the other. Yes you’d still be dating, but in the end you’d get engaged and then married. Speaking of engaged, Charles did propose to you, it was a private event, only the two of you on his yacht away from prying eyes, with soft music playing in the background. The monegasque got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Ignoring the fact that you’re bound by a contact you agreed instantly, tears in your eyes and a smile on your face.

But here you are now standing across from Charles, your eyes locked in a silent exchange if understanding, the weight of their circumstances hung heavy in the air. The officiant, cleared his throat and said his words singling to you to start your vows.

Charles took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he spoke his voice steady yet laced with emotions.

”y/n, I know that our beginning is not the one we would’ve liked for each other, but I’m glad that it did. But I know that fate has intertwined our future together, one way or the other I would’ve made my way to you. In you, I have found a companion, a confidante and a source of strength. I vow to stand by your side through everything that may come our way, to support you, to cherish you and to love you with all that I am, for as long as we live.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you listened to Charles’ words, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You took a moment to compose yourself before speaking your voice soft but unwavering.

“Charles, Charlie.” You begin and your voice starts to tremble with emotion the more you speak. “When we first met I never imagined that our paths would be so intertwined, that I’d reach a point where I can’t imagine living without you. In you I have found a partner in crime, in life. You’ve showed me so much love that I never experienced before and for that I’ll be always grateful, I vow to stand by your side to be on your team, to lift you up when you falter, to love you unconditionally and with every fibre of my being.”

In that moment, those who doubted you, those that thought they won, those that wished your relationship would end, all knew that as you shared your first kiss as husband and wife, that you’re a team, a family, and that nothing can bring you down. You made each other stronger, you made each other happy, and you had your whole futures in front of you to heal all the wounds you had in the past, you’ll both grow and heal and live together.

Your journey is far from over, there’s so much that you’ll face. But you’ll face it together in each other’s arms, where you felt the purest kind of happiness.

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dorkszn · 8 months ago

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SOULLESS + katsuki bakugou

SYNP — after losing your quirk, you had no idea what to do with yourself and katsuki couldn’t help you

WARNINGS — masc reader, suicide, quirk loss, heavy angst | 1.3K

A/N — did i cook, y’all? 🥺

Your quirk was what made you. That was the mentality most people in this world had. It was what you grew up on. You took it seriously. Your quirk defined you.

Katsuki knew this. He understood you. Even he knew he was more than his quirk. He never put you down for it, he just pushed you to work harder.

And you pushed. You pushed and pushed and pushed. Until it all fell to shit.

You don’t process the silencing sound of the gun shooting until you feel the impact. The world slows while simultaneously crumbling around you. You can’t hear. You can’t hear Sir Nighteye shouting, you can’t hear Izuku’s gasp, you can’t hear Togata’s cry. You just feel. Feel a part of you being ripped away.

The bullet sits in your body. And you feel. You feel the gash in your flesh. You feel the blood seeping from the wound. You feel the sting of its penetration. Then you feel the strength drain from you. You pushed too far.

Everyone described your time in the hospital as uncharacteristic and silent. The only time you spoke was when Katsuki visited you. And he felt. He felt the emptiness radiating from you. Even then, you sat in quietness as you attempted to tell him how you were feeling. Empty. Weak. Soulless.

He couldn’t treat you like everyone else. For one of the first times in his life, he knew, a quirkless person was nothing less than him. He had to treat them right. He had to treat you right. Which he did of course.

Your mental and emotional condition always hurt him. Always made him feel like a piece of him was missing. Even when you were allowed to return to your training. When you’d help him with his special moves or by sitting on his back while he did pushups.

It was a mental trick. It was supposed to make you feel like you were back. It was supposed to make people see you and smile and pat you on the back. Giving you “good job!” and “we’re glad to see you back.” But you weren’t back. You weren’t anything. And nobody knew. Nobody knew until Katsuki and Aizawa did.

A normal day of physical therapy while everyone else was training. One where Katsuki requested to come with you and one where Aizawa sat in with you. Your arm wasn’t functioning like before. No part of you was. Not your mind, heart, or soul, if it was even still there.

The physical therapist gave you your usual spiel before leaving you with the two men.

“The way you’re taking this ain’t very heroic, you know?” Aizawa told you, taking a seat next to you on the bench. He put a comforting hand on your head, pulling you close to him.

Your words struck through the two like the bullet that hit you. The bullet that robbed you. “I’m not a hero anymore. I’m nothing.”

That’s when the two realized. You weren’t the same. The hero you were and the person you were now, were completely different.

Katsuki saw the signs. He knows he did. His only mistake was not knowing what to do about them. He had sick thoughts. He thought maybe if Izuku had gone through with his words, he’d know the signs. He’s grateful that Izuku is alive and well but a bit upset that he didn’t have the experience he needed.

You zoned out often, stayed in your dorm all the time, slept in class, and barely spoke at lunch, you wouldn’t text with your old spark and enthusiastically run up to him after school. He missed you. Not any more than he does now but he did. Even though you were right there. Like you were just a body floating its way through life.

He told Aizawa. Aizawa said to give you time. Katsuki doesn’t blame him. Not entirely. He couldn’t have known. But giving you time was the wrong move. Giving you time was the last thing you needed.

Katsuki knows he should’ve been smarter the day you gave him a letter. An envelope that you didn’t want him to open until the next day. Aizawa got one too. So did Hitoshi. And Izuku. But none of them thought anything of it. Just a way for you to get the words you couldn’t say out.

Katsuki should’ve known after seeing the way you grinned around everyone and stayed by his side all day. But he was stupid. He thought you were getting better.

Dear, Katsuki Bakugou.

Katsuki. I love you more than anything in this lifetime. I am forever grateful for what you’ve given me. My life has gone so much better than I ever expected because of you. I want to give you the world. I tried. I tried really hard. But I can’t. Everything feels dull and nothing feels right. I feel trapped and I don’t feel like myself. And I can’t get out of this slump. Being here feels like being dead. I’m not here. I know this would hurt to text you or say to your face. I can’t think of those eyes of yours without it hurting me. Nothing is your fault. Never. Thank you, Katsuki. I love you in this life and beyond. Take your time, hold your ground, and become the best. I’m rooting for you. I’ll see you on the other side or in another life. I know if I become myself again, I will always find you.

Love, your dumbass, y/n l/n.

The wind rushed past you. Everything looked so different from your view. The same scenery you’d be taking in for the past few months sits ahead of you but it looks different. It feels nice. Maybe because this was the last time you’d see it.

The ground glares up at you, it’s pavement calling to you. The moonlight shines on your skin, casting your shadow on the rooftop of the dorms. You try to smile. To take it in one last time. But you can’t. Your mind won’t let you. Whatever was left of your soul won’t let you.

You just take a deep breath. And feel. You feel the bullet breaking your flesh and shattering your bone. You feel Katsuki’s warmth surrounding you. You feel Aizawa’s hand on your head. You feel and feel and feel. Before you fall.

It only took minutes after sunrise before you were found. An unlucky student stumbles across a corpse. Their blood-curdling scream immediately grabbed the whole world’s attention. It only took hours for them to collect you and identify you.

After that, it only took minutes for it to be announced to the class. It only took seconds for Katsuki to unwillingly break down. As fast as the bullet ripped your quirk from you, his soul, his mind, and his heart were ripped from him.

It only took seconds for the pity and grief to intoxicate the room. Poisoning every first year and teacher at the school. It only took days for Katsuki to finally convince himself to read the letter. It only took seconds for him to break down again and be pulled into Aizawa’s chest.

It only took a week for Katsuki’s world to crumble.

He visits you through the snowy days and warm nights. Sitting in front of your stone and replacing your flowers. Your soul is long gone and it feels as if his was too. The picture of you in his t-shirt, stupidly grinning at the camera stares into him. And he feels. He feels the hurt. He feels the pain. He feels your warmth. He feels your missed presence. He feels and he feels and he feels. Until he doesn’t think he can anymore.

“You weren’t nothing, y/n. You were everything.” He pushed the words out.

#dorkszn #dorkfilmz #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #anime angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x you

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

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I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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whatswrongwithblue · 28 days ago

Note

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

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leonsdolly · 7 months ago

Text

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway.

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue.

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t.

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples.

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby.

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day.

One day.

Three hundred days, all wasted in one.

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one.

And then it just… ended.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.

But God, you were so in love.

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.

You killed each other.

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.

He was your first true love.

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.

You need to forget Matt Murdock.

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

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shadowandlightt · 4 months ago

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Of Nightmares and Memories | Fourteen| Azriel X Rhys' Little Sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Talks of death.

A/N: SO a lot of feelings in this one. I hope you guys like it, I'm really getting excited about where this story is about to go.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

When you wake up hours later, the sun is high in the sky. The first thing you notice is that you aren’t in Az’s room anymore. But instead you’re in the room that you grew up in. You haven't been in this room since you came back. In fact, you’d been too afraid to come up here. Too afraid of the memories it would bring.

“Az?” You question, looking around the room to find it empty.

He was gone. No trace of his shadows, even your own that floated about the room seemed to want nothing to do with you. You screwed it all up this time. You used him, Gods, you should never have taken him to bed. That shouldn’t have been your first time with him. That wasn’t how that was meant to go.

Tears blur your vision as you bury your head back into your pillow and begin to sob. You can’t help the tears, can’t do anything to try to stop them. You don’t want to. You need to feel the pain, because you can only imagine how Azriel felt. How used he must’ve felt, knowing you were only there for a distraction.

You loved him, so much. But all you could think of last night was not feeling everything else. Then you were so consumed by the feeling of him, that you forgot to feel about him. You felt dirty, so fucking dirty that you wanted to scrub every inch of your skin raw. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the bed. So you didn’t.

You stayed in bed for the eternity of the day. You didn’t move, opting to stare at the wall instead, feeling everything and at the same time feeling nothing.

The following day, when you finally dragged yourself from your rooms, you were confronted by Rhys, who had nothing but worry in his eyes. You nearly broke down into tears again at the sight. For so many years, you never thought you’d see him again. You never thought you’d have him hold you, and comfort you, even if you didn’t deserve his comfort.

“Take me back to the townhouse,” You cry into his shoulder, “I can’t stay here.”

“Okay,” He whispers into your dark hair, followed by the sound of his wings unfurling.

You hold your breath as he shoots to the sky, being as gentle as possible. Azirel must have told him that you had some sort of reaction from flying. So when you land on the rooftop of the Townhouse, you can’t help but vomit into a nearby plant. You heave and heave until there’s nothing left in your stomach.

“Are you alright?” Rhys asks as he holds your hair back.

You can only shake your head, feeling the scars on your back burn again. You fall to the ground, Rhys’ arms still holding you as you begin to cry. You sob again, feeling the weight of the world that you now live in. The world without your mother, and even your father. The world in which you were the reason your mother died, because you didn't fight hard enough to save her.

“I didn’t fight,” You sob uncontrollably, twisting to bury your head in his shoulder once more.

He smelled like her, and like your father at the same time. Jasmine, like her, and pure night like him. It made you cry even harder. Made you miss them even more. Made your heart break just a little further.

“Shh,” He whispers, “You did your best.”

How he knew what you were talking about, you don’t know. Maybe your mind was wide open for him to read. But you couldn't feel him there. Maybe he just knew you better than you thought, even after all of these years.

“You were a mere child, Y/N, I’m not sure I could’ve done anything differently at your age,” He admits, “No one blames you for what happened. You were a victim, not a cause.”

Your head shakes without permission. You hear what he’s saying, but you can’t believe it. You won’t allow yourself to believe it. So instead you cry and cry, without the energy to fight with him it’s all you can do.

Eventually you make your way to the room that’s now been designated as yours, and hide in the bed once more. It’s all you can do. All you have the energy for. Rhys pokes his head in and checks on you before dinner. The twin wraiths leave a plate at the foot of your bed, but you can’t bring yourself to eat.

All you want is Azriel, but you don’t deserve him. Not after how you used him. Not after what you took from him. Even carrying the weight of your mother’s death, you’ve never felt as guilty as you do thinking about what you did to Az.

You aren’t sure how much time passed before Mor is barging into your room and clinging your curtains open, “Enough is enough.”

“Go away,” You moan, turning away from the windows.

“You aren’t allowed to sulk here any longer. Rhys might be content to let you wither away, but I will not.”

“Leave me alone, Mor.”

“I won’t pretend to know what the devil happened between you and Az, because you seemed to be coming back to all of us before whatever it was ... but it’s time to move on.”

“I’m happy staying here.”

“Don’t make me get Cassian.”

Her warning made you gingerly sit up, muscles screaming in protest due to not being used in so long. You were allowing yourself to become even weaker, something you swore you wouldn’t do.

“Talk to me,” Mor begged, “Let me in…let someone in. Don’t keep locking yourself away, both physically and metaphorically.”

“I don’t know how anymore,” You admit to her, “I don’t know how to be anymore.”

“What happened between you and Az?” She asked softly, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You shake your head, unable to put it into words.Cassian was probably the only other one who knew, unless Az shared with Rhys, so he could understand why you were the way that you were.

“I slept with him,” You whisper, “I used him for sex. And it felt so good. But then when I woke up and realized what I had done...I couldn’t face him.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Mor wraps you in her strong arms. She smooths your hair down, and strokes you back, like a mother comforting her child. It brings tears to your eyes once more.

“Az wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to,” She confirms, “You did nothing.”

“Our first time shouldn’t have been because I was looking for a distraction,” You cry out.

She continues to hold you, trying her best to soothe you as you work through everything in your head. You tell her about how flying made you feel, and how you needed a distraction and the only thing you could think of was Azriel. You told her about how you and Lucien used to use one another in that way, back when you were being held in Spring. How you were the first person he’d been with since his brothers held him down as they killed his love in front of him.

You told her everything. The words flowing out before you could stop them. What you couldn’t put into words you showed her in her mind, so she could understand. She sat in silence and let you talk until you had no words left, and then she did something you hadn’t expected.

“It’s time to forgive yourself,” She says carefully, “None of that was your fault. You’ve heard us say it before, but really hear me now, Y/N, you know what my power is. So you know I speak the truth, it was not your fault. You did what you had to do in order to survive, the same thing Rhys did under the mountain. You are blameless.”

“But I-”

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to live like this,” She states, “So if you’re going to do anything, live. Live for her, because you and Rhys are all that is left of her.”

You feel something in your chest as you notice a shadow dancing in the corner of the room. It wasn’t one of yours, you realized with a pang in your chest. He was checking on you…even after what you did. He was making sure you were okay.

“Have you talked to him?” You question, nodding over to the shadow.

“He wanted to give you the space you needed to figure things out,” She nods, “Not because he doesn’t want to be around you, but because he thought you didn’t want him near.”

“I always want him near,” You sniff, wiping away your tears.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him,” She smiles brightly at you, “Now, let’s get you dressed. The twins made quite the spread downstairs and Feyre and I cannot eat it all alone.”

“Where’s Rhys?”

“With Amren, trying to help decode the book.”

You nod and force yourself to stand, the shadow now curling around your ankle in an attempt to get closer to you. Like it knew you wanted Azriel near, but his shadows were the next best thing. You wanted to ask where he was, but didn’t want to know at the same time. You knew he was working his network of spies hard.

So you eat with Feyre and Mor, laughing about the random stories Mor seemed to come up with over the course of the meal. And once it was over? You didn’t retreat to your rooms. Instead you found yourself on the terrace soaking up the last few rays of sunlight left of the day. Your head was tilted up towards the sky as your eyes were closed.

You can feel a presence behind you, but you can also feel shadows lapping at your feet. You hesitantly smile and open your eyes, “Are you going to sit?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“I figured your shadows would’ve told you differently by now,” You try to make your tone light and teasing, even as you feel nothing but anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“They did,” He confirms, “But still.”

You motion to the seat next to you, scooting over slightly to make room for his wings. Those big beautiful wings that even you didn’t touch that night. Truthfully you weren’t sure if he would’ve let you touch them.

“Do you regret it?” He asks you suddenly.

You turn to look at him, golden skin glowing in the late day sun. He looked beautiful. He always did. How could you even think about regretting him? Azriel was like your heart walking outside of your body. The missing piece of your soul. You could never ever regret being anything with him.

“No,” You say quickly, “No Az. I could never regret you.”

“I just thought-”

“I regret how it happened,” You admit, “I regret that I used you as a distraction, but I could never regret you.”

His head is bowed low as he nods. You know him well enough to know that his own need to prove himself, to be wanted, is showing through. You’re both broken, in more ways than one. He spent twelve years in captivity, not being shown an ounce of love. You now know what that's like. You know what it can do to a person.

So, you get up and slide into his lap, gently tilting his chin up so he’ll look at you, “Azriel, I will never regret anything with you. You’re my heart.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. It makes you smile as you lean down to kiss him. Really kiss him, softly and slowly. His hands hold onto your hips, holding you in place as he kisses you back. You can feel pieces of your heart slowly coming back together, like he’s the glue you needed.

“I don’t want space,” You whisper against his lips, “Not from you. Never from you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, princess.”

You stayed with him up on the terrace until the sun was long gone and the stars shone in the sky. You kissed him until your lips were swollen and bruised, but you didn’t care. Being in his arms felt better than any drug ever could. Mor was right, it was time to forgive yourself for everything that happened.

“I’m sorry,” You finally speak, “For making you feel like I regretted you. For making you feel alone.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” He sighs, “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” You shake your head, “Now come, I’m hungry and smell dinner downstairs.”

He barks out a laugh and stands once you’re off of his lap, leaning down to peck your lips once more. The simple action leaves you feeling warm all over. Leaves you wanting more from him. But you also know now is not the time. So instead you lead him downstairs and into the dining room where the rest of your family is gathered.

“There they are,” Cassian all but shouts, “We were wondering if you were going to join us!”

“Leave them be, Cas,” Mor scolds him before turning and winking at you.

Rhys is nearly beaming, and Feyre is smiling sweetly at you. You take a deep breath and find your place at the table, next to Azriel, like it’s always been. The conversation flows easily as you all eat. You find yourself laughing alongside Cassian, who’s more or less howling at one point. You feel normal again, your chest doesn’t feel empty.

“We leave in the morning,” Rhys finally says, stopping the laughter.

“For what?” You ask, feeling very much out of the loop.

“The Mortal Queens have agreed to meet with us,” He explains, “You’re more than welcome to join us.”

You find yourself shaking your head before you speak, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you sure?” Az asked you, “You won’t be an imposition.”

“No,” You say again, a little stronger this time, “I think the best thing for me to do is to stay here in Velaris.”

“Okay,” Rhys relented, “We should be back tomorrow night, at the latest. Hopefully the Queens don’t keep us waiting.”

So you see them off in the morning and then pace around the house whilst you wait for them to return. Amren, being the only one who can possibly translate the book, is busy trying to do just that. So you pace, and pace, and pace. No doubt wearing down the luxurious carpet in the townhouse. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You know, more than likely, that no harm will come to them. But you still can’t help but worry.

You finally settle on the couch after an hour or so, and must drift off because you don’t hear them when they come back. You don’t hear the hushed conversation, recounting everything that happened. No, you only stir when Azriel gently brushes your cheek and whispers your name.

Instantly your eyes fly open and you surge forward to hold him. He lets out a little laugh, holding you back, tucking his face into your dark hair.

“I was only gone a few hours,” He says softly, arms tightening around you.

“She was worried,” Rhys fills in for him, “Which she shouldn’t have been, it was just a meeting.”

You shake your head, and place a kiss on Azriel’s neck before pulling back and giving your brother a crude gesture. He barks out a laugh before motioning for you to follow him outside. You look to Az who just nods, and moves to help you stand from the floor that you’d ended up on.

“We need to talk,” Rhys said calmly.

You nod and follow him outside, feeling panic well up in your gut. Something happened, something that would change the course of the war. You could feel it.

“We have to go to the Court of Nightmares,” He says once you’re in the courtyard, “I told you that I wouldn’t leave you out of this. And as much as I wish she wouldn’t, Feyre is coming, so you have a decision to make. You may come, and play the part, or you can stay here and they’ll know nothing different.”

“Why are you going?”

So he explains, putting an emphasis on needing a distraction. And as much as it makes you sick to your stomach to think about going back there, after so many years, and playing the part of the cruel princess that you played all of those years in spring…you knew you needed to go.

“If you need a distraction, then you really will need me,” You admit to him, “I’m unwed and unmated, from the most powerful line in our history. If Mor was the top of the market, imagine what I’ll be. No male will be paying attention to what anyone else is doing.”

“I don’t want to put you in that position,” He shakes his head.

“You aren’t putting me in any position,” You argued, “I’m offering. I won’t sit idly by and let others fight this war for me. If this is what I can do to help, then so be it.”

“Azriel won’t like it.”

“I won’t like it either, but I’ll do it. For our family, I’d do anything.”

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @queerqueenlynn @hnyclover @witchymomfrien @one-big-fangirl

@amara-moonlight @annamariereads16 @maddybraps @saltedcoffeescotch @wallacewillow0773638

@minnieoo @st0rmyt @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4n

@emryb @mikatanazaki @nickishadow139 @ilovespideyyy @mysticalfuncollectorus

@judig92 @tele86 @oksloan3 @darling006 @fleurrreads @dr4g0ngirl

@weasleyreidstyles @ren-ni @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @fxckmiup @inloveallthetime

@isa1b2h3 @fightmedraco @val-writesstuff @acourtofdreamsandshadows @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

@mybestfriendmademe @azzydaddy @lilah-asteria @quinzzelx @mp-littlebit @tothestarsandwhateverend

@pruvii @megscabinetofcurios @krowiathemythologynerd @its-sam-allgood

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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throneofsapphics · 11 months ago

Note

Can i ask for something similar to it only takes three azriel x reader but like where reader struggles with an ed and suicidal thoughts and it gets really bad

If not thats ok I understand that can be triggering i loved how you wrote for it inly takes three it was good I really enjoy your writhing your very talented 🤍

from the shadows

Summary: “It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge.”

Warnings: toxic parents/friendships, ed, suicidal ideation, drinking, depression

Word Count: ~2.7k

A/N: ahh you’re so kind, thank you for the request!

Did you want someone to notice? Not really. These battles were supposed to be your own to fight. Every time you’d brought it up to your parents, they told you it means you need to be stronger, that your mind is weak.

You stared at the food in front of you, waging a mental war with it. Each time you tried to touch food, words and memories would slide into your mind.

The half-finished plate is pulled away from you. “Don’t eat too much, dear,” your mother tutted.

Closing your eyes, you let out a long breath.

“Are you going to eat that?” Cassian asked.

“All yours,” you pushed it towards him. He shot you a grateful grin, and slid your food onto his plate. You could’ve sworn you saw a muscle in Azriel’s jaw flex, but he didn’t say a word.

You registered everything, but none of it held any meaning. Nothing mattered, you were trapped in this endless void. Haze clouded your world. Muted colors, dimmed voices, even the air surrounding you felt lifeless. Each smile a facade, each action and response carefully measured, everything designed to make it seem fine. To make you seem fine.

There wasn’t any other option. Anything else felt like failure to you. Weak, weak, weak. Each time you’d reached out before - every time to your parents or old friends, your hand was slapped away with a scathing gaze and cutting remark.

‘Just deal with it.’

‘You’re being dramatic.’

‘Stop looking for attention.’

So you did. Everything stayed inside - under firm lock and key. Your conscience argued against itself, you had different friends now. Friends that gave the appearance of caring, that seemed genuine -

“Hey,” a voice called, a hand waving in front of your face. Blinking, you brought your consciousness back into the present. Mor. “Where did you go?”

Was that concern or worry in her tone? Maybe.

“Just a memory,” you forced a smile you hoped was reassuring. She didn’t look convinced. From your peripheral, you spotted narrowed hazel eyes watching you, a shadow swirling around the bearer's ear. “What do you have planned for today?” You deflected.

Mor, face still lined with a tinge of worry, took the bait.

Laying on the bedroom floor, studying the dips and whirls of the ceiling, the hard wood surface dug into your back. Today was the day you’d decided to say something. To build up the courage to ask for help. Azriel, who you’d always gone to. It was getting bad enough you knew something needed to change, and you were the only one who could start it. ‘Asking for help makes me strong,’ you reminded yourself.

The door creaked open, and you knew who it was before he saw you. Maybe you should be embarrassed, getting caught like this. But … you’ve already hit the bottom, and it didn’t matter anymore if others saw it.

A scarred hand loomed in front of you, coming from an amused looking Azriel. You took it, and his fingers closed around you, warm and comforting. He yanked you to your feet - hard enough you stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You’re lighter than I remember,” he commented, scanning over your body. Your shoulders lifted and fell. Azriel frowned, but dropped your hand - leading you out of the room instead.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was rough. When was the last time you’d spoken to someone? Working in the library, doing research, didn’t require it, and people were rarely around the townhouse.

“Meeting,” he answered - his voice a bit short. Like he was annoyed you had to ask. You dropped his hand.

A meeting nobody had told you about.

“I didn’t know.”

He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying you briefly, deciding if you were lying or not. When had he started questioning that? Throughout all of these years, you’d provided him with nothing but honesty. Azriel, your close friend and on and off lover.

Maybe he read the confusion on your face.

“You’ve been hiding something.”

That made you pause in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“What do you mean?” Fury rose in you, heart pounding, chest tightening, face blazing.

Azriel stood there, watching you with that cool quiet. Long enough you realized it was a tactic, waiting for you to offer up information. Like you were one of the prisoners he interrogated. Gods, your anger only grew and grew.

“Ask me,” your fists clenched. “Ask me what’s wrong.”

His mouth tightened at the corners, a sign you were testing his patience.

A clock ticked in your head, counting each second, both of you staring at each other - seeing who would speak first. Thirty. That was it for you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. If he didn’t have the decency to ask, you wouldn’t tell him a damn thing.

Azriel expected you to offer everything up on a silver platter. To come to him for everything, like you had in the past.

You were about to, and now you felt like a fool for even thinking of it.

For all this time, you thought you’d kept it hidden well enough that nobody noticed. Now it’s clear - he’d seen something, and chosen to ignore it, watching from his shadows and not doing a damn thing. If the person you trusted the most saw you struggling and didn’t bother, what does that mean?

It meant you weren’t going to crawl all the way to someone who wouldn’t move an inch for you.

You prayed you’d somehow find the strength to deal with this on your own.

Feet and instinct guiding, you found yourself down by the Sidra - a secluded area. You fell, gravel digging into your knees and palms, hands pulling at your hair. A shield wrapped around you, cloaking you from sight and sound. Nobody could hear your screams, and right now - that’s the way you wanted it.

Distantly, you heard the rain clattering on your shield, the sound normally would bring comfort - but now it felt like some kind of beating drum, like a haunting melody. Light flashed in your vision, streaking across the sky before striking the ocean. Maybe it would hit you too.

Screaming. It could have been hours or minutes you sat there, tears flooding from your eyes and throat burning. It was supposed to make you feel better, but if anything it got worse. Numbness overtook you, drowning out every other sensation. You could fall off a cliff and feel nothing, maybe until your broken body hit the rocks below.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

Was it that? Or did it make you strong enough to end your own suffering?

Different images flooded your mind. Fighting back a laugh at one of Mor’s presents, offering your thanks instead. Watching live music in the rainbow. Azriel taking you flying for the first time.

Like cold rain, the thought of him pulled you out of your mind. What would he say if he saw you like this? Probably nothing, but he’d think you’re pathetic.

Good thing you didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. You stood, brushing the gravel from your knees and palms, frowning at the small indents left behind on your palms, and let the shield disappear.

This was where the Sidra tumbled out into the ocean. The rocky cliff, seldom frequented, where you could truly be alone.

You didn’t really want to die … but you took another step towards the edge, peering closer. This way wouldn’t be quick, your body would break but you’d lie on the rocks below for hours, maybe trapped between them - slowly drowning under the waves.

“Y/n,” someone called - and you startled, body starting to launch over -

Shadows curled around you, dragging you back several feet, Azriel’s arms wrapped around your waist - holding you tight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, still holding tight.

At least your shield had done its job. Still, he was the last person you wanted to see right now. Catching him by surprise, you stomped on his insole and wiggled out of his grip - just like he’d taught you. Taking a few steps, not daring to turn your eyes away from him, you watched something like fear cross over his features.

He held his hands up, palms facing you. “Stop, please.”

Water sprayed against your calves. You’d gotten close to the edge again, without noticing. Looking over your shoulder, it would only take a few more steps.

Do it, the demon in your head screamed at you. He’d be relieved.

Turning your gaze back to him, worry shone there. It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge. There was no doubt his shadows would interfere if you got any closer, but for now he was giving you a choice. Letting you choose to walk away from the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand turned - reaching out to you instead. Teeth tugging into your bottom lip, you realized there was a decision to make.

It really wasn’t much of a decision at all, you ignored his hand, and brushed past him - making for the Townhouse.

Like an annoying guard dog, Azriel trailed you the rest of the way home. You didn’t see him, but you could feel his presence - moving through the shadows. You’d walked away, hadn’t you? He could leave you the fuck alone now.

Stopping for a bottle of wine, you made your way back to your bedroom. Meeting forgotten. Leaning your back against the door, a bit of magic popped the cork out. Funny, wine was one of the few things you could tolerate now. Maybe because of the release it brought.

You scented him, then heard a knock. You ignored it.

A sigh, and the sound of someone sliding against wood.

Azriel wouldn’t leave you, not like this. His shadows peered inside to tell him what you were doing. Sitting against the door, drinking right from the bottle. He could feel your warmth through the wood, a barrier separating the two of you. He mirrored your position.

If you didn’t want him inside, that was fair enough, he still wouldn’t leave. Not when you were just standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. Two hours spent searching for you when he noticed a small disturbance in the rain - droplets displaced before they struck the ground, and decided to wait a few minutes. Just in time for you to appear.

You’d always come to him in the past, and it was wrong for him to expect you to again. He’d already cast a thought out to Rhys and told him to clear everything for the next week.

Azriel had just nodded off, when he heard movement. He barely had time to stand before the door swung open, spotting you - half empty bottle of wine on the floor, bracing your hand on the wall next to the door.

“You can leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The door slammed shut again. Fine, he could wait.

“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You ripped them away from him, shooting him a scathing look and storming past into the dining room. Inviting him in had been a mistake. The intent was to prove you were fine, and tell him he could stop hovering on your doorstep, but if anything he seemed more worried at the end.

You couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. Good. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. Sitting at the dining table, a plate appeared in front of you - a single muffin. One of your favorites. Swallowing harshly, you reached one shaking hand out for it.

Inches away, your hand fell to the table. Fuck.

Just one bite, you told yourself.

Steeling yourself, you reached again. Trembling fingers peeled back the paper, and you brought it to your lips. The scent of blueberries filled you, and the feeling of crusted sugar brushed against your lips.

One bite.

“Hey,” you heard Mor. The spell broke, and you dropped the muffin back on the plate. “Don’t let me stop you,” she winked, pulling out the seat across from you. Her own muffin appeared, and she took a bite herself - moaning at the taste.

Somehow, that helped, and you took one of your own.

You hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, but Azriel watched from the shadows and felt like an idiot. Somehow, Mor’s presence for a few minutes brought more light to your eyes than he’d seen in months. Or maybe it was that you managed to eat some of that muffin.

Those hours he sat outside of your door … had they been worthless?

Maybe, maybe not, but at least he’d proven he was there for you - even if it was a bit too late.

If you didn’t want him physically in your proximity, he could wait in the shadows.

Waiting didn’t help before.

He’d read the expression on your face - on that cliff, and understood your anger.

Azriel was waiting for you to come to him, when he should’ve been the one reaching out.

Walking out of hearing range, his palm slammed against the wall, forehead resting on the cool wood. If he couldn’t do this one damned thing right, what did that say about him?

For a while, Azriel really did think you were getting better. You smiled more, ate more, and had a spark of life in you. But, as the weeks went on, he saw you draw further into yourself. Plate half full, eyes dull. This time, he’d actually do something about it - even if you shoved the door in his face.

Your door was already open, so he pushed a bit further, knocking.

Bleary eyed, you lifted your head from your desk and sighed, but jerked your head. He surveyed your room, taking in the books piled everywhere, empty bottles, clothes strewn over chairs haphazardly. A mess.

“What do you want?” The words weren’t sharp or cutting - although he’d prefer that to the emptiness in your voice. The bleakness of your expression, even though he could only see your profile - eyes unfocused on the book in front of you.

“You’re struggling. Again.” Not the most eloquent, but he got right to the point.

“What’s it to you?” Narrowed eyes finally looked up at him. Cautious. Wary. Even months ago, you’d never looked at him like that before.

“I care about you.” Maybe he expected your eyes to soften - to show some kind of understanding, but if anything they only hardened further. You didn’t believe him. He tried a different tactic. “Is it that hard to admit you need help?”

“Yes,” your voice rose, but he didn’t take a step back or flinch. He could deal with your anger, anything’s better than the distance, and that veritable wall you put up between them.

“Why?”

“It means i’m weak,” the first tears lined your eyes as you shifted in your chair to face him. He could see all of the sharp angles of your face, even more defined now - and not in a good way. There was no shine to your hair or eyes, none of that normal glow to your skin.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

A sigh, and your hand ran down your face. “Why are you here, Az?”

“I don’t like seeing you … hurting.”

“You didn’t bother before,” you countered.

“And I regret that,” cautiously, he reached out and grabbed your hand. You didn’t protest or fight him, and he took that as a good sign, letting his other hand brush away one of your tears, the droplet catching on his thumb. Even with the tear gone, he brushed his thumb across your cheek again, savoring the smooth feeling of your skin. Ever so slightly, you leaned into him. Catching yourself, you jerked back, but didn’t let go of his hand - if anything you seemed to grip onto him tighter. As if he might disappear and leave you by yourself again. That wouldn’t happen.

“I don’t know how you can help.”

His thumb brushed back and forth over your knuckles. “We can figure that out.”

The slightest smile appeared on your face, and lingered.

azriel taglist: @acourtofinkandpapyrus if anyone wants to be added please let me know!

#azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar drabble #acotar x reader

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slut4evanpeters · 1 month ago

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Bound By The Dark

Tate Langdon x Reader loosely based on Romeo and Juliet.

song i recommend listening to: living legend by lana del rey

warning: very angst, suicide, using medication to commit, romanticizing of death, tragic ending, themes of isolation, depression, emotional distress, do not read if ANY of these are triggers.

word count: 2.7k

notes: please read this with caution. if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please know that you are loved and supported. its never to late for help:)

The house had a history.

You learned that almost immediately after stepping foot inside the large, looming structure. It towered over the street, its cracked façade barely hidden behind sprawling vines and overgrown bushes. The real estate agent had brushed off any concerns you or your parents had, but there was a feeling. A thick, suffocating tension. That settled over the place, clinging to your skin like humidity. It smelled old, like mildew and stale air, and as soon as you crossed the threshold, you knew you didn’t want to be there.

But your family didn’t care about how it felt. They cared that the house was cheap, and that it was far larger than any other home you’d ever lived in. Your father said it was a “fresh start” for all of you. A new life in a new city. It was the kind of lie that parents told when they didn’t want to admit that things had been falling apart for a long time, and now this move was their last-ditch attempt to piece things back together.

But no matter how much you tried to embrace that optimism, you couldn’t shake the chill that seeped into your bones as you walked the long, winding halls of the house. Something was off, like the house was waiting for something, or maybe for someone.

The first few days were relatively uneventful. Boxes were unpacked, rooms were organized, and your parents seemed to settle in without much concern. Your room was large, with a window that looked out onto the overgrown backyard, where a twisted oak tree stood tall and crooked, like it had been there longer than the house itself.

But even in the bright light of the afternoon, the house felt wrong. Its walls creaked and groaned in the night as if it had a voice of its own. Sometimes, when you were alone, you could swear you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but when you looked, no one was there. The isolation was suffocating, and though you had tried to distract yourself with new schoolwork and social media, nothing could fill the growing void inside you.

It was late one evening when you first met him.

The rain had been pounding against your window, relentless and unyielding, when you decided to venture down to the basement. Your parents had explicitly warned you to stay away from it, but something about the basement called to you. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was fate.

The stairs groaned under your weight as you descended, the air growing colder with each step. The basement was dimly lit, the shadows casting strange shapes along the walls, and yet it felt strangely familiar. Like you had been there before, though you knew you hadn’t.

And then you saw him.

He was leaning against one of the brick walls, his blond curls falling into his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. His clothes were simple, almost dated—a worn sweater and jeans that looked like they belonged to a different era. But it was his eyes that held your attention—dark, hollow, and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” he said softly, as if he’d been expecting you. His voice was calm, almost soothing, despite the eerie atmosphere of the basement.

You froze, unsure of what to do. This was your house—wasn’t it? Who was he? How had he gotten in?

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tate.”

“And what are you doing in my house?” you demanded, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Tate shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. “I live here.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. He lived here? That couldn’t be true—you and your family had just moved in. The house had been empty for years. Or at least, that’s what the real estate agent had said.

“No, you don’t,” you said, frowning. “We just moved in. No one’s lived here for years.”

Tate’s smile widened, though there was something almost sad about it. “Not in the way you think.”

There was something about the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so final—that sent a chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, the lights flickered, plunging the basement into darkness for just a second. When the light returned, Tate was gone, leaving you standing alone in the cold, silent basement.

You tried asking your parents if they knew anything about the previous owners of the house, but they shrugged it off. “No one important,” your father had said, brushing past the question as if it didn’t matter. “Some old family. The house has been empty for a while.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Tate had been there, and somehow, you felt like he had been there for a long time.

It wasn’t long before you saw him again. It was late at night, after your parents had gone to bed. You were restless, unable to sleep, so you wandered the house, hoping to quiet your thoughts. As you passed by one of the unused rooms on the second floor, you felt a strange pull, as if something—or someone—was calling you.

You pushed the door open, and there he was, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked up as you entered, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“You came back,” he said softly, as if he had been waiting for you.

“I didn’t come back for you,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, you knew they weren’t entirely true.

Tate smiled that sad, knowing smile again. “You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. There was something about him—something that drew you in, even though every instinct in your body told you to stay away. He was dangerous, you could feel it in your bones, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know him. You needed to understand him.

“Why are you here?” you asked, stepping further into the room.

Tate sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “Because I can’t leave.”

“What do you mean?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the answer was too much to bear. “I’m tied to this house. I’ve been here for a long time. Longer than you could imagine.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Are you… are you dead?”

Tate’s eyes opened slowly, and when they met yours, they were filled with a sorrow so deep it took your breath away. “Yes.”

You weren’t sure how to process the fact that Tate was a ghost.

You wanted to deny it, to rationalize it, but the more you spoke with him, the more real it became. Tate had died a long time ago, but his spirit remained in the house, bound by some invisible force that kept him there.

At first, you were scared. You avoided the rooms where you had seen him, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t real—that he wasn’t real. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were meant to know him. There was something about him, something tragic and beautiful, that pulled you in.

And so, slowly, you began to seek him out.

It became a routine: you’d wander the house late at night, knowing you’d find him waiting for you somewhere. Sometimes in the basement, sometimes in that forgotten room on the second floor. You’d talk for hours, sharing stories of your life, your dreams, your fears. And Tate, in return, told you about his.

He had been lonely for so long, trapped in the house with no one to talk to, no one to understand him. But with you, he felt alive again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

One night, as you sat together in the attic, Tate reached out and brushed his fingers against your cheek. His touch was cold, but it sent a warmth spreading through your chest, igniting something deep inside you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. “This house… it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want to be with you.”

Tate’s eyes darkened, filled with a mix of desire and fear. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m dangerous. I’ve done things… horrible things.”

“I don’t care,” you repeated, your voice firm. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric. Tate stared at you, his expression filled with shock and disbelief. “You… you love me?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yes, Tate. I do.”

For a moment, Tate didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were cool against yours, but the kiss was filled with an intensity that took your breath away. It was desperate, almost frantic, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of your heart into that single, stolen moment.

When you finally broke apart, Tate rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But we can’t… we can’t be together. Not like this.”

Despite Tate’s warnings, you couldn’t stay away from him.

Every night, you found yourself returning to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And each night, your connection deepened. You could feel it—the way the house seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if it knew you were falling in love with a ghost and was waiting for the inevitable fallout.

Your parents noticed the change in you, though they didn’t understand it. You spent less time with them, more time wandering the halls of the house, lost in your thoughts. They tried to talk to you about it, but you brushed them off, too consumed by your love for Tate to care about anything else.

“You’ve been acting strange,” your mother said one morning over breakfast, her brow furrowed with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, though your heart felt heavy in your chest. How could you tell her the truth? How could you explain that you had fallen in love with someone who was dead?

But deep down, you knew it couldn’t last.

The house was getting to you. You could feel it in the way the walls seemed to close in on you, the way the air felt thicker, heavier. The longer you stayed, the more you realized that Tate had been right—it wasn’t safe. Not for you, not for anyone.

And yet, you couldn’t leave him. You loved him too much.

It was late one night when everything came crashing down.

You had been in the attic with Tate, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you lay side by side. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the roof.

“You know this can’t last, right?” Tate said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened, pulling away to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Tate’s eyes were filled with sadness as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re alive, Y/N. You have a life outside of this house. Outside of me.”

“I don’t want a life without you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave you, Tate.”

“But you have to,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You deserve to live. To be happy.”

Tears filled your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t want to be happy without you.”

Tate closed his eyes, his expression pained. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. But this… it’s not fair to you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the attic, followed by the creak of the door opening. You turned to see your father standing in the doorway, his face pale with shock.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you talking to?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you realized that your father couldn’t see Tate. To him, you were sitting alone, talking to thin air.

“Dad, I can explain—” you started, but your father cut you off.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm. “This house… it’s doing something to you. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“No!” you cried, standing up and taking a step toward him. “I’m not leaving! I can’t!”

But your father didn’t listen. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the attic with tears streaming down your face.

Deep down, knew that without Tate, you’d be better off in the gutter. His presence was the only thing tethering you to the mess that had become your life, but it wasn’t enough to pull you out. That night, everything seemed so much clearer.

You made the decision.

Racing from the attic into your bedroom, your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t panic, but a strange kind of calm, like you had finally figured out the answer to a question that had haunted you for your time loving Tate. You went straight to the nightstand, hands trembling as you yanked open the top drawer. Buried in the back, behind half-empty tubes of lip balm and loose change, was the small box of paracetamol. You had kept it there in case of a fever, but that wasn’t why you reached for it now.

Sitting on your bed, the stillness of the room pressed in around you. One by one, you popped each pill from its foiled tray, their edges cutting slightly into your fingertips. You placed each one on your tongue, swallowing them dry, your throat burning as the bitter taste clung to the back of your mouth.

Once the last pill was gone, you sank back against the pillows, feeling the cool fabric cradling your head. A faint tune drifted through the air, a song you couldn’t quite place but one that felt familiar, almost comforting. Your vision started to blur, your head spinning gently, and your eyelids grew heavy. For a fleeting moment, you thought you felt Tate’s presence, like a shadow hovering beside you, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to stop you.

The world slipped away.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. You crawled out of bed, your limbs feeling light and weightless, but when you turned to look, your breath caught in your throat. There you were, your body, lying perfectly still on the bed. Peaceful. Almost as if you had simply fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

For a moment, you stood frozen, staring at yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no pain, no fear. Just a strange sense of detachment, like watching a scene play out in a movie.

Then, from over your shoulder, you heard it. A whisper.

“I told you death was painless.” Tate’s voice, low and familiar, curled around you like smoke. You turned to find him standing there, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite read. “You didn’t need saving, after all.”

You looked back at your body one last time, then turned to face him fully. Maybe he was right—maybe you didn’t need saving. But the decision had already been made, and now there was no going back.

Hand in hand with Tate, you walked into the darkness together, the world you had known fading away behind you.

In the end, your love story was not one of happiness or hope. It was a tragedy, a tale of two souls bound by love.

Tate was your Romeo, and you his Juliet.

#tate langdon oneshot #tate langdon imagine #tate x reader #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #tate langdon angst #evan peters #evan peters imagine #evan peters oneshot #evan peters angst #evan peters x reader #american horror story #ahs murder house #ahs murder house oneshot

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milliesfishes · 8 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎHold Up౨ৎ꣑ৎ (Pray You Catch Me Part Two)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, self harm (non-suicidal), manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 2) author’s note: thanks for the love on chapter one <3 excited about this one. Series Pinterest Board Series Spotify Playlist

When Coriolanus had started to court you, he’d exhibited certain behaviors you’d taken note of. Some of them were regular things, but one stood out above all others.

He was possessive. One of his hands was always on your waist, or your thigh, wherever he could reach, wherever was appropriate for the setting. Whenever you were speaking with anyone at the events the two of you attended, especially if it was a man, he kept close watch. His gaze was sharp, piercing, and anyone could feel it on them even if they weren’t looking in his direction.

Every touch, every hint of protectiveness swam through your head as you laid next to him, back against his chest as he held you like a doll.

Sleep was not your friend that night.

Your mind was fully focused on the hand he’d put over you, how it had slid under your nightdress, resting on the skin of your hip, and your emotions ran wild, swirling around until sunrise when you finally landed on one. Anger.

The audacity he had to make plans to meet another woman for something so glaringly carnal and then come back to you, his obedient little wife, like nothing had happened. Your hand gripped the pillow under your head, feeling like you could tear it in half. The black nightdress you’d picked up felt like sandpaper on your skin.

Sitting up slightly, you looked over at him. The most powerful man in Panem, fast asleep, so vulnerable, so…human. His blond hair was a little messy, his breathing soft. Even now, he was annoyingly perfect.

Suddenly, as your mind wandered, it struck you that you had no idea how long he’d been seeing her. You knew it’d been at least once because he’d mentioned last time. This could have been years in the making, and you were just too naive, too stupid to see it. Hell, it could’ve started long before he’d begun courting you, and you’d been none the wiser. You hardly knew anything of his past, except what his being in the public eye afforded you.

The hand on your hip was heavy, like a weight, and you glared down at it. In the past, you would’ve allowed it, not wanting to wake him. Maybe you’d have even enjoyed the feeling.

But this was not the past.

In one motion, you shoved his hand off you, tugging your nightdress down and moving as far away from him as you could on the bed. You pulled the pillow out from under your head and put it firmly between the two of you, your back to him. It was a small act of rebellion, but it was all you had right now.

When morning came and the sunlight spilled through the windows between the wine red curtains, he’d awaken and wonder why he wasn’t holding you anymore. But he wouldn’t think much of it, likely figuring you’d shifted around in the night. He’d be confused, but it wouldn’t affect more than a few minutes of his waking mind.

It was all you had right now.

Several hours later, Coriolanus was gone for the day, and you tried to occupy yourself. It was not an easy task. It felt pathetic waiting around for him to get home, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Wandering into the closet you shared, you ventured over to his side, running your hands over his shirts and jackets, inhaling his scent. You’d never explored his things before, keeping to your dresses and heels. He’d never outright told you not to do this, but you assumed he didn’t necessarily want you to.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was the least you could do after what he knew hurt you.

You took a shirt off its hanger, pressing the fabric to your nose. Men’s cologne, roses. That was him. When you put it back on the hanger, you made sure it was a little less neat than before.

Now you were at his jackets, and you took a red one off the hanger, noting the pants it matched on a shelf, crisply folded. Going over to the floor length mirror, you pulled it on, smoothing it over your body. You were still wearing the black nightdress from the night before.

Wearing his clothes felt strange, but you liked it. It was…powerful. You put your hands in the pockets, turning to look at yourself from a new angle, when you felt a loose scrap of fabric. Lace.

Your eyes widened, a feeling of dread taking over as you hastily pulled it out. A stark black pair of panties, ones that did not belong to you.

Mind racing, you thought back to the last time he’d worn this jacket. A month ago, a fundraiser you’d attended. You remembered that night because he’d been unusually affectionate, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you’d leave to talk to a friend, his arm around your waist holding you close when he was speaking with a senator you couldn’t remember the name of. You’d felt…well, not loved, but cared for. Like maybe, just maybe this could be more.

But evidently he’d gone straight to her afterwards.

The staff of the mansion was discreet, and they wouldn’t dare ask questions if they found a pair of panties in his pocket. They’d have likely just put them right back where they found them after the jacket had been cleaned.

As all this hit you, your face crumpled, and you knelt on the floor of the closet, still holding the panties, and cried softly. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. You didn’t know why you were surprised he was stepping out on you, but it was the fact that he’d made you think he cared about you, and allowed yourself to care back.

You were just another pawn in his game.

Men like Coriolanus wanted to be adored, without risking their own necks. Let everyone else feel, be vulnerable, devote themselves. On some level you had known that before, but now…now it was glaringly obvious.

As was what you had to do.

You wiped your tears and took off the jacket, hanging it up right where he’d see it when he walked in. The panties were still bunched in your fist as you stalked out of the closet, heading for the bathroom. A plan was hatching in your mind, and you gritted your teeth, your expression dark.

Tossing the panties on the counter, you pulled out your curling iron and plugged it in. As you waited for it to heat up, you got out a washcloth, twisting it in your hands. It was your wedding anniversary today, so you knew for sure he’d be home tonight. That’s why he can’t meet her tonight-

Shut up, you told yourself, fanning a hand over the curling iron, making sure it was hot. You picked it up, inhaling softly. There was a moment of hesitation. Was it worth it?

Then you thought of the way your heart had fluttered when he pressed his lips to your temple, the way you’d smiled sweetly at him when he told you that you looked beautiful on his arm…

You shoved the washcloth into your mouth and brought the curling iron to your neck, pressing it down hard.

Perfection is attainable, you thought as you sat at the dining table, across from your usual spot. His place was set at the head, and you were often situated to his left. But tonight you’d requested you sit to the right, a subtle change that’d unconsciously put him on edge.

You looked ravishing, in a dress with a deep neckline, thin straps, and hardly any back. Deep red. His signature color. One you hadn’t dared to wear before. There was a rose between your fingers, and you were twisting it, eyes on the entrance to the dining room.

At last, he appeared, as handsome as ever, his face serene. There was little reaction to the sight of you, but it was there, and you relished in it.

“Dove,” he greeted, coming closer. You made no move to stand and welcome him as you usually did, instead looking up at him innocently, the end of the short stem of the rose in your mouth.

He sat in his chair, eyes on you. “Your dress…”

“Oh?” You looked down at yourself as if it were nothing. “I found it in the back of the closet. I know you usually like me in black…” you let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “...but it’s a special occasion.”

Coriolanus watched you, something you couldn’t pinpoint in his eyes. “I was only going to say you look lovely.”

You merely smiled at the compliment, setting the rose down in front of you, your hand beside it. He picked it up, his elbow on the table, kissing your fingers. “Happy anniversary, dove.”

Hating the little flutter your heart gave, you kept your eyes on him, a little smile on your face as you brushed your hair behind your shoulder with your free hand.

Immediately his eyes caught it, his expression growing cold.

The dark burn mark on your neck, bruising and almost looking like…

You looked innocently at him, taking note of the change in his face. “Dearest…?”

His grip on your hand was tighter. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Frowning, you kept your expression light, pretending not to know. “I don’t-”

“Your neck,” he hissed. “What the hell is that?”

You didn’t respond, only looked at him, your eyes blank like you had a secret. His silence was furious, and yet internally you were having a laugh. Cheaters are always paranoid that their partners are cheating. This was something you'd known when you burned your neck earlier, and the seed you’d planted was in full bloom. “Curling iron accident.”

You’d made sure to only slightly curl the ends of your long hair, enough that what you said was plausible, but not entirely believable. His thoughts were almost visible on his face. “You expect me to believe you burned yourself?”

“You can ask Lisa,” you said, referring to one of the maids. “I rang for her to bring me ointment.” This was true, you’d called her in tears, showing her the mark. She’d applied enough medicine to stop the pain, but nothing except time would make the mark completely go away.

But you knew how his mind worked. He knew maids could be bribed, and pain could be fabricated. And you’d orchestrated it so it’d be frustrating for him to get to the bottom of this, because he already was at the bottom. His paranoia was almost too easy to manipulate.

“If I find out you’ve been with another man…” Coriolanus’ voice was quiet, the tone change making his words lethal.

You leaned forward, pulling your hand from his grasp. “And what if I am?”

His cold expression betrayed some surprise as you stood up, looking like a goddess with your hair spilling over your shoulders. In his usual color preference, you looked powerful, dangerously beautiful. “It’s hard to tell, Coriolanus. You work long hours. Spend a lot of time away. Maybe…just maybe, I could’ve gotten lonely. Maybe I could’ve needed someone to keep your side of the bed warm…”

In an instant, he stood, pinning your hands to the table and leaning over you, his hot breath in your face. You kept your expression calm, looking into his eyes boldly. He glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“You’re right,” you cut him off. “I wouldn’t. That mark on my neck is just a burn...” He must’ve thought you were a good actress, but not good enough that he couldn’t see through you. It was almost funny how easy he could be convinced. It’d hardly taken any effort at all.

You wrenched one of your hands out of his grasp, taking his hand and sliding it up so his fingers were hooked on the slit of your dress, dragging it up and over toward your belly so the panties you were wearing were on full display. Black, lacy ones.

His eyes widened as he recognized them, and you stared at him, expression hard. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes rose slowly to meet yours. You said nothing, shoving his hand away, your dress falling back over your legs. “...care to tell me what these are?”

Coriolanus’ blue eyes pierced yours, and you didn’t let yourself be intimidated by him. He was the president of Panem…but he was still just a man.

“You know,” he said simply, eyes searching yours.

You only stared at him.

He exhaled, biting his tongue and looking away for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your chin held high.

His expression was firm, but he nodded curtly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on you. “I never meant to hurt you, dove-”

“Don’t call me that,” you said softly, sharply.

He exhaled through his nose, a sure sign he was angry. “You had to know this would happen at some point. This was an arranged marriage for-”

You interrupted him again. “It’d be one thing if you’d always been cold. If you’d kept your distance and stayed far away from me. But you convinced me that you cared about me. You made me look stupid.” Your eyes bored into his.

He was silent, still glaring at you, but it had weakened. The words hit him exactly where you’d wanted them to.

You stood up straight, stepping away from him. “I’ll be staying in another room from now on, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to move my things.” You’d already enlisted Lisa to help move most of them earlier, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Absolutely not,” Coriolanus grabbed your wrist. “I can tolerate your anger, but separate beds will not be suffered. Or did you forget your vows-?”

“Which you already broke,” you pulled yourself away from him, turning your back, giving him one last look at you in the dress. “I think sleeping in a different bed will be fine.”

He wasn’t used to being interrupted this much, and he stood in silence as you walked away. Just before you got to the doorway, you reached up, sliding the panties down your legs, turning and throwing them in his direction. “Here. I bet she’s missing these.”

And with that, you left your husband in silence, the last hours of your wedding anniversary lost to the aftermath of his infidelity.

Previous part|Next part

come talk about coryo here!

#coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #president snow #young president snow #milliesfishes #milliesfishes coryo #married to young president snow #spotify #Spotify

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

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Walk down memory lane : AK!Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: mention of self harm and suicidal thoughts.

You can find other AK!stories on point 4 here: Jason Todd masterlist

***

She was just so tired.

Tired of fighting, of keeping up that fucking hope, of carrying the excessive weight on her shoulders.

She just couldn’t anymore .

Maybe it was time to finally accept that Jason didn’t care about her. That he would never care again. Not in the same way he used to before all this shit hit them. Before Joker, Harley, Arkham…

But she still needed, wanted, craved his love.

But how long can a girl be strong and live in a delusion?

And for the first time in a year she started crying.

What Harley could not achieve, happened because of a boy. No amount of torture and mind games and tricks she was subject to in Arkham, not once broke her. But the indifference and cold treatment from her former boyfriend, the one who she still loved got her on her knees, sobbing and shaking on the bed in her little, cold Asylum cell.

He was right. She was completely alone, no one was coming to help her, safe her from that void that finally found a way straight to her heart. Nothing more than a playtoy, unlovable, weak, pathetic, developing a heavy case of Stockholm syndrome.

Poor girl hugged herself in a foul attempt to calm down, but it was for nothing. Tears were falling freely down her cheeks, turning her into a puddle of emotions she couldn’t hold back. It was like the old wound and the feeling of being used opened and uncovered all the layers she cut off before.

Some people call it trauma, but she couldn’t care less about the terminology.

Maybe it would be better to just end her own life right now just so she wouldn’t have to suffer through another day of such lousy existence. It was Arkham, she was pretty sure she would find something to help her execute her plan.

On shaking legs she stood up from the bed, moving towards the bathroom. The mirror that Jason broke violently after their last encounter was still not fixed and the sharp pieces of glass poked on every side.

Perfect.

Gathering all the strength she had left, she reached towards the splinter and pointed it towards her wrist, assessing the “best” place to cut……

***

She woke up feeling sore and in tremendous amount of pain like never before. Both of her wrists were patched up with the clean bandages and she wasn’t even in her own sweatbox. Honestly, she couldn’t for the love of God recognise the place where she was, until the familiar, slightly muffled voice threw her off her confused state and brought back to reality.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!” Jason hissed with unconcealed anger and she shivered. “WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO!?” in a blink of an eye he was right next to her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes up.

She was just completely silent, the tight grip of his fingers on her puffy, hurting cheeks causing a few more tears to flow down her eyes.

“I’m sorry…..” she whispered, slightly panicking. He was never supposed to find her, let alone to save her. And why did he? Was it only because he needed her for release in the future? “I’m sorry…..” her whole body shook violently.

“Y/N…….” her name in his mouth sounded almost sweet and the touch got far more gentle, sudden change in behaviour making her freeze. What was going on?

“I……” her mouth fell agape and it was impossible to say a word.

“Did you forget what I told you last time? You’re mine. You can’t just go and decide to hurt yourself this way. I cannot allow it.”

“Why?” she sobbed “it’s not like you care. I am just a reminder of the past, of all those lies you were fed by Batman and your family. Of someone you once were and could never be again.”

“Stop it!”

“Please, please, just let me go. Just let me finish it, please.” Her desperation and panic attack coming out in waves in the form of the aggressive tugging on the dressing, trying to reopen the stitched wounds and cuts. “I’ll do it myself. You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Stop it!’

“You can even watch it, I know you’ll enjoy the show. You wanted a show, didn’t you?”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE STOP IT!” finally he managed to get a hold of her hands, pinning them down to her sides, precluding her from moving, even though she still struggled against his hold. “Is that what you think of me? That I will enjoy that?” she nodded shakily “fuck!”

“I’m sorry…..” she whimpered again. She was still here and he was now mad which could only equal to another punishment. And this time it was not going to be intimate. He could really hurt her at any time.

“Baby…..” he whispered, almost without thinking, closing his eyes “princess.”

“Wha….. what did you say?” her eyes grew wide. Did he really use those words or was it just an imagination?

Jason was completely inside his head now, memories flooding his brain like a fucking Niagara. He remembered the past. The moment, when while still being Robin, someone came after her, attacking her and almost eliminating her from the equation. He recalled the hours spend in the medical bay, watching her pale face and the heart rate monitor, praying to whatever entity was up there to bring her back to him. All those little heart attacks caused each time she took a sharp exhale. Falling asleep next to her bed, holding and caressing her cold hand, whispering pleas and promises to keep her safe in the future if she just woke up. Brushing up on how he felt when she finally opened her e/c eyes, looking at him with so much love and concern, asking if he was all right.

He remembered how she cared about him….. And how he cared about her.

“Ja…. Jace?” she swallowed the lump in her throat, taking the risk to use his nickname, ready for another anger fit, but instead she met his honest gaze, so different from the one she was used to in his Arkham Knight version.

“Don’t ever do this again.” He gasped, brushing her cheek, putting a strand of hair behind her ear “you hear me? Ever.”

“Jason?” he bottom lip trembled because of that sudden display of emotion from his part.

“Ever.” He emphasised. “I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“Ok……”

“Anyone who hurt you deserve a punishment and that applies to you hurting yourself. Is that clear?”

“Anyone, but you?” she blurt without thinking and immediately covered her mouth in fear of the words that came out her mouth.

Jason tensed a bit, his muscles flexing but he didn’t move.

“Get some rest. Need you recovered soon. Big plans for you.” He just said and with one final look into her eyes left the room, leaving her completely speechless.

…..

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x oc #jason todd angst #jason todd smut #arkham knight #arkham knight angst #arkham knight jason todd #arkham knight x y/n #arkham knight imagine #arkhamverse

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barelylivingscholar · 7 months ago

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Arlecchino with a daughter tw: unhealthy family relationships, manipulation, and gore(?), suicidal thoughts, unstable/mentally ill daughter. Not for the faint of heart, heavy angst, a somewhat positive ending in the last part(?) (Do not read if uncomfortable)

An: I am backkkkk, second semester and last semester’s finals kept me busyyyyyy but I’m here again to post some stufffffff!! Not hsr related but like I also write for Genshin now, apparently… Will post a part two, I guess? “Father. When am I able to hang around with the others? I have done everything that you’ve asked for.” A young girl asked, to which “Father” responds with, “You need to focus on the task in hand. I still have many more missions for you to do before I set you free.” The girl sighed, knowing very well that she may as well never be able to be allowed to play with the other kids… For a moment, the girl had wished that she wasn’t the only one to deal with this kind of burden. The burden being, the “successor” of “Father.” She wanted to play with the other kids as well, but alas, her father does not permit her to do so. Instead, excuses are made, and the standard Fatui discipline is instilled in her mind, always have to act proper and professional, not allowed to shed a tear, or to feel strong feelings regardless of what the matters are. I hate it here. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Every day feels like I am only made to be the person that “Father” wishes me to be. I am never truly happy. I am sinking. Father was not family. This whole thing is and always was, a lie. Do I ever get to be free? Perhaps I can set myself free. There is a way. ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶i̶̶s̶, ̶a̶̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶d̶̶o̶ ̶i̶̶t̶? --- After burning the corpse of their enemies, I return to the House of the Hearth, albeit bloody and face that is smudged of dirt, the smell of blood and gasoline lingers around me. With every passing servant, caretakers, and also children as well, unsettled and left shaken up at the sight of me. I stained the carpets red. I wonder if “Father” would notice as the carpet is in the same shade of the blood of her enemies…? Will she punish me and discipline me? Although words are exchanged, no form of physical harm done, I am still left isolated. Like I am to be a monster kept away from people… I feel caged.

This time, I didn’t bother to clean up and went straight ahead to father’s office. Where I know I’ll be punished for such a careless mistake. “Father, I have returned.” I greet, looking to see her eyes staring straight at me. For once I don’t cower. I simply walk up to her and wait for her response. I have no reason to be scared, right? I don’t think I care anymore. Father’s eyes narrowed. The sight of blood that wasn’t mine, the smell of gasoline, in her eyes, I may as well be the filthiest child in the house. One that is simply, uncouth for the position of “successor.” “Why have you not followed protocol? Especially contingency 8? Have I not taught you well?” Her voice sharp, dissatisfied with my performance. It must be a surprise for her that her “successor” had become disobedient. What is she going to do to me, I wonder? Dispose of me? Or would she find someone else who is to succeed her as the “Father” of the House of the Hearth. “I… I have no other excuses.” I was unable to control my voice. It was shaky, wavering. I hate it. Father’s eyes seemed to had harden. I am interested with what is going to be the left of me once this is all over. I look forward to it. I want her to snap at me. Kill me. Foul words for a child like me, but this is what I planned. Maybe it is best that I sleep in eternal slumber instead rather than live a life full of misery. I have nothing to be grateful here. I am not thankful that I am still alive today. “…You are hereby stripped of the title “successor.” You are no longer worthy of the title. I am disappointed.” Is that it? No severe punishments? My mind raced; I was unable to comprehend why had she punished me in a way that is so… Little? Had she gone soft? I do not remember anything that made her want to punish me lightly. Don’t I deserve… More? My brows had furrowed. “Father” did not miss that. “Daughter… Are you, upset?” Her voice sounded confusing, to me. Why do you suddenly care? I don’t understand you at all. I do not feel safe at all. Are you really “family?” “…I’m fine.” I say, my voice a little tight. Unshed tears on my face, I am no fool. I do not need your love.

“You are now excused.” Never had I ever left her office so quickly after that. I had to get away…! I need to get out of here… I breathed heavily as I ran and ran… Until there is nowhere to go. The heavy snow had engulfed me. And soon… I was unconscious. I awoke to an unfamiliar place. This is not the House of the Hearth. I quickly got up, ignoring the sudden rush of blood shooting up due to how fast I went up. I ignore the throbbing pain on my forehead, I focused on my surroundings instead. Where am I? This place is… Different. I jolted as I felt a hand on my shoulder, immediately backing off and grabbing a hidden dagger in my boot. “Stay there! I will stab you!” I hissed. Glaring at the mysterious figure. They looked… Kind. I am not supposed to feel that way. There are no kind people in this world. Everyone I know will always lie to me, manipulate me for their gain. Just like “Father.” Just like them…

The stranger had knelt down and attempted to soothe me. I only responded with aggression and threats. They weren’t phased at all. “Who are you? I am no ordinary orphan! I am a murderer!” I shouted, clearly agitated. The man in a familiar coat had not reacted violently at all. I am confused. And angry. “I am Pantalone. “Regrator” from the Fatui. I assume you are one of the Knave’s lost children…” My eyes widened at the statement. He is no ordinary man… I should’ve known, I gritted my teeth and gripped my dagger tight. “I am not her orphan! I am no longer a part of that… I could care less if you are a part of the Fatui, I will die gladly in vain if I have to fight for my freedom!” I hissed. The man is amused. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I have a better proposal for you, child.” “Regrator” inquired. I had not chosen to back down even at the prospect of an offer. “What makes you think I will take it?” I replied, gripping the dagger tight. “I will not surrender you to the Knave. Rather, I’ll take you in as my disciple.”

Disciple? Is this man sick in the head? Why would I agree to that? It seems “Regrator” had heard my thoughts, and so, he added, “Although, it is up to you if you would rather be surrendered back to the Knave… Or join me and I’ll give you a much better purpose, in life… Not that you have any choice on the matter if you decline my offer…” I had no sense of purpose to live for. I am merely an empty shell of what I was once. I have nothing to achieve… In the end, I don't have what it takes to truly end my life. So I will follow my new superior. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be easily obedient. I am rather mad.” And it was the start of something anew… I had become, “Regrator’s disciple.” I wonder how “Knave” will react to such arrangements… An: Part two will include Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. There will be other characters who will be included as well but, part one's story was set before Lyney became the sucessor of the House of the Hearth. I am thinking of interesting ideas to write for this story and some alternate routes as well... We'll see once I whip up part two.

#platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #pantalone x reader #fatui harbringers x reader #platonic genshin impact #daughter!reader

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trashmancer · 4 months ago

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Okay, I have to get it out of my system. The thoughts I had on what The Dragon Prince did and why, deep down, it repulses me on a profound level. (I’ve shared these thoughts elsewhere but here’s my analysis on Viren’s arc and ending in season 6.)

The season begins with Viren waking from what was teased to be death (and viewers were left thinking he died for a year). He feels free and unburdened and has hope. Maybe things can be better, maybe he can change, maybe he can fix what he has broken.

Spoiler alert: He doesn’t even get off the starting block. From there it is a descent towards despair and his self-inflicted death.

After he wakes, he encounters his bloodied daughter Claudia. This shock smacks back to reality and he sees what he has caused. He realizes the cold truth: his daughter is better off without him so he leaves her despite her cries for him to stay. It is worth noting as he leaves, he openly acknowledges it may kill him—and he doesn’t much care if it does.

He goes back home to Katolis searching for anyone to talk to. He begs to speak to King Ezran and is denied and told he deserves “no mercy.” He reaches out to his son Soren in an attempt to reconcile, to apologize, and Soren accuses Viren of trying to manipulate him. Viren realizes he will receive no help or solace here as he’d hoped, and despairs.

His feeling of hopelessness is symbolized by the show panning to a fly trapped in a spider’s web about to be consumed. The abject image of being trapped with nowhere to go except death.

Next we see him, he is alone in his cell, penning a letter of his regrets, which is not that dissimilar to one's final thoughts in a suicide note. But he reconsiders. After all, this is self-indulgent pain to burden the living, so he burns it. His last thoughts and words gone.

It isn’t much after this moment Soren tells Viren the only thing he has of value to offer is his ability to do Dark Magic—the thing Viren has been running from, the thing he now hates, the thing that ruined his life. Throughout the show, dark magic can be allegorically read as a form of self-harm, done out of fear and trauma while causing lasting scars to the user. And Viren succumbs to it. He agrees. With the biggest expression of it: offering his own body to feed the spell. He stabs a knife into his own chest (reminiscent of Shakespearean suicide). And he dies.

What happened here wasn’t just a blaring example of a heel-face door slam where a character vying to change their life around and be better is coldly denied. It was also a suicide—a glorified one at that.

For a show supposedly about hope and forgiveness and breaking cycles, having a character who for three seasons is striving to walk a different path take his own life in an act of despair when he has nowhere else to go is... well. Sure is something. Nothing good in my world.

#the dragon prince #lord viren #tdp spoilers #tdp meta #like no lie i cannot see it any other way once i mused on it #and for this to be a series geared towards kids that people call hopepunk #are we watching the same show??? seriously??#tw: suicide

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boolger · 6 months ago

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The desk ☆ dark!price x cat hybrid!reader

afab!chubby! reader. No use of Y/N.

hi hi, lets ignore all of my wips. This lil thing will be Price's pov first, then reader's.

read the tags. MDNI.

☆rating: explicit. ☆ length: 1k word.

☆tags: dark!John Price, dark!141, hybrid!reader, non-con, dub-con, dead dove dont eat, referenced kidnapping, torture, spanking/non con spanking, non-con drug use, mention of stockholm syndrome, r*pe, oral sex, p in v, afab reader, reader has a pussy, chubby reader, punishments, mention of death and suicidal thoughts.

☆Summary: Reader is chained to Price’s desk and despite her many attempts, she hasn’t had a successful escape attempt yet nor has the captain grown tired of her, as she had hoped.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

She had been chained to the desk for a while now. At first, it was mostly a bother to John himself. The amount of times she had fought him was just as frustrating to him, as to her. Couldn’t she see that it was for her own good? She didn’t have to worry about anything in here, she had what she needed. Once she behaved more, she would earn more privileges. For now, however, his office was her home, the desk the center of the world.

At first, she made her frustrations known both verbally and physically. Hissing and pulling at the chain constantly, clawing at the nice - and rather expensive - wood, leaving marks that he doubted could be fixed. Hell, his soft girl even managed to make the desk move with her fits.

A feral little thing she was. Even if Soap argued there was nothing small about her, while looking at her with loving eyes, not even bothering to hide his staring at her ass and tits. Ghost and Gaz weren't any better.

Alas, the office and desk was her home until she earned back the privilege to live in his quarters on base once more. The scar on his cheek was almost healed by now. Her claws really needed to be clipped. Maybe just removed. Would save him a lot of trouble.

The first week, John had spanked her so many times that he was convinced the bruises on her big ass would be permanent. His hands at first, until they became sore and clearly weren't enough - belt then, which seemed to be the way to go. A couple of times he even belted the soles of her feet, making his princess crawl.

His princess, his pet, his kitten. His Fae. She didn’t particularly like the name he had chosen for her, but pets didn’t get to decide their own names after all. The owners did.

Eventually, she learned to behave. Or, at least behave better than before.

It wasn’t too bad. He tried explaining that to her several times. She had what she needed here. A soft pet bed that was big enough for her to sleep in, the chain was long enough to move freely in the bedroom, there was a little fridge with food and he - or one of his boys - came with food from the canteen regularly unless on a mission. She had clean clothes, neatly folded and cleaned for her. Panties? why would she need those, stop asking. Those were a privilege as well. Bloody hell, Price even got her a nintendo DS that she could play on when he was in meetings and didn’t need a cock warmer.

No, no, Fae was perfect. Her mind, even if stubborn, was brilliant. Her cunt was perfect, her mouth too, despite her struggles. Especially after they filed those pesky fangs of hers away. Her ears were pretty, tail always soft to the touch.

Perfect little pet. The chain was just necessary for a while. Until stockholm syndrome set in.

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You were in hell.

One moment you were living your life as a free woman, the next you were kidnapped by some psycho military man - and his team was just as crazy as him, laughing in your face whenever you begged for help.

He, “Captain John Price, luv, your new master”, had threatened you with a gun before and several times these last days, you couldn’t help but think that you should have made him shoot you. It would be better than this. Sure, you would die, but you wouldn’t be chained to a fucking desk anymore.

You would be free. Not wearing a fucking collar with the name Fae on one side of the heart shaped tag and the words ‘property of Captain John Price’ on the other side. There was a little bell attached to the collar as well, every movement exposed to whoever was nearby.

“could be worse, luv. could have given you a shock collar, eh?”

… maniac.

The chain was connected with a big padlock, to a metal cuff around your ankle. You were pretty sure the metal cuff had been welded around your ankle when you had been drugged, though you couldn’t remember exactly. It was connected to the desk that you wanted to burn to the ground. It was giant, wooden and with locked drawers and sharp edges that dug into your skin and left bruises whenever he bent you over it and fucked you.

It had place beneath it for you to sit on a pillow, either just being a cockwarmer for the man or getting your throat fucked so hard you cried.

Worst thing? you were getting messed up from being there. You weren’t even sure for how long you had been with the captain in total, but it had been a little over two weeks in the office, chained to the desk by now.

One sign of that was that you were beginning to like him. Or at least, tolerate him more than any of his bloody men. They hadn’t been allowed to fuck you yet, sure they had fondled you, but nothing more than that and you could kiss Price for it. Fucked up as it was, you would prefer to just be his fuck toy and pet, than any of the others.

Price knew this, he had figured you out pretty quickly, because of course he had. Threatened you to let them take turns on you, while he fucked you over the desk, tits pressed against the papers while you squirmed on his fat cock and mewled with pleasure. Begging to just be fucked by him, letting your love for his cock spill, saying he was the only one who had ever made you feel this good.

Still, you weren’t messed up to the point that you didn’t want to run. It was just a matter of time and then you wouldn’t be chained to this fucking desk.

#my writing #boolger #cod fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price cod #john price call of duty #call of duty reader #reader x john price #dark!john price #dead dove fic #read the tags #i beg you

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 1 year ago

Text

In My Room // Ethan Landry

request: none

prompts: none

summary: you’ve been dead for a few weeks. yet somehow, you showed up at ethan’s window in the middle of the night. things almost seem too good to be true. that is until you tell ethan that he has to keep killing if he wants to see you again.

warnings: very gory, graphic depictions murder, a lot of blood, a lot of main character deaths, very off plot, mentions of suicide, suicide but not very graphic, getting stabbed in the eye, descriptions of your rotting body, allusions to smut but nothing graphic, possible psychotic break

word count: 10.2k

a/n: gn reader, does not follow plot of scream 6 at all, i thought this song fit ethan perfectly and well this happened lol, not my gif

Are you gonna let me in?

Hello?

Ethan shot straight up from his bed, his heart pounding. For the past hour there has been an incessant tapping coming from his window. He had tried to brush it off as simply a tree branch, or maybe a bird. But then he heard a voice. No. He heard your voice. It was exactly the same as he had remembered. But that was impossible. It had to be. You were dead. Right?

He looked over to his window and almost fell backwards in a mixture of pure shock and terror. Sure enough, there you were. Sitting outside of his bedroom window, tapping on the glass. Except you looked different. Just like you had the last time he saw you. Your skin was pale, and there was a bullet hole in the side of your head, blood seeping down the side of your face.

You saw Ethan looking at you and you smiled. A sick and twisted sight. You no longer had the same calming presence about you. There was something else there. Something sinister. Your smile was wicked and your eyes were dark. Blood dripped out of your mouth, staining your teeth and leaving red streaks down your chin.

Ethan still sat on his bed, looking at you. He couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of him. You were dead. You died a few weeks ago. Ethan had seen it, you died right in front of him. By his own hand. And yet, here you were, still tapping at his window and smiling eerily. But even though you were moving, and even speaking to him, you still looked dead. And the sight of it terrified him.

“Please let me in, Ethan. You don’t want me to freeze to death, do you?” You laughed softly at your words, knowing full well you were already dead.

Ethan hesitantly nodded and stood up, walking over to his window. He pulled it open and you crawled inside. His fear began to grow the longer he was around you. You smelled of blood and rotting flesh. You looked like a zombie. That was the closest thing he could compare you to. But even a zombie wouldn’t induce this much fear in him. So you must’ve been something else entirely.

“Thanks for letting me in, baby. We have so much to talk about.” You smiled sweetly, but your eyes still held the darkness you possessed.

2:45 and the bell went off

Thank God, many people think I'm odd

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

Ethan pulled his hood over his head tighter and walked out of the classroom. He went to all his classes like normal, but he couldn’t even bring himself to focus on anything. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only. You.

More specifically, everything that had happened with you last night. You had crawled in through his window, and sat yourself upon his bed, some of your blood dripping onto the sheets, staining them red. Ethan walked over, but still stayed at a distance. He had seen enough horror movies to know that the ghost of someone you killed usually wasn’t very friendly.

“Why so tense, baby?” you had asked, tilting your head questioningly.

Ethan fumbled over his words, stuttering as he tried to reply. “I- uhm, well. I- uhh,” he couldn’t even figure out what he was trying to say, let alone how to make the words leave his mouth.

You simply smiled again and waved him over. He hesitantly came closer, sitting down beside you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss your presence, but there was something off about you. However, you didn’t seem particularly angry with him, or even upset for that matter. You just continued smiling at him, and you reached forward to place your hand on top of his. He had flinched at your touch, but he soon relaxed under it. You always had a way of comforting him, even when you looked like you were dead.

“How? How are you here?” Ethan asked, looking confused and intrigued at the same time.

You laughed softly. “Don’t you remember, baby? You killed me. Shot me. Right here.” You brought your other hand up and touched the gunshot wound on the side of your head. Your fingers were covered in your blood when you pulled them away.

Ethan felt his eyes well up with tears as he looked at you. He had never really experienced guilt before, but now the weight of it was almost crushing. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t want to kill you, believe me. I- I didn’t have a choice.”

You smiled once more, and brought your hand up to rest against his cheek, your blood staining his skin. He leaned into your touch. “I know, baby. I know you would never want to hurt me.”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled at you. Gone was the fear he had felt moments before. All he could feel was his love for you. A love that extended beyond the bounds of life and death.

“But if you want to keep seeing me, I need you to do something for me.”

Ethan looked at you and nodded eagerly. “Anything. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”

You smiled wickedly. “Perfect.”

I get home and don't say hi, it ain't no one there

I don't care I walk in and go right up the stairs

To my room, get in bed and just wait for dark

Because that's when the real show start (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, still wearing his Ghostface costume and holding his knife, both of which were covered in blood. He stared at his window expectantly, waiting for you to appear again. It had only been a day since he saw you last, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

He turned away to pull his mask off, setting it down on his bed beside him. As soon as his eyes were off of his window, he heard a gentle tapping coming from the other side of the glass. There you sat, perched outside of his window, looking exactly as you did the night before. Ethan shot up from his bed and practically scrambled to get over to the window and open it.

“Hi baby.” You smiled sweetly, your eyes still looking demonic. You crawled through his window again and sat down on his bed, waiting for him to come sit beside you.

As he walked back over, you noticed the bloody mask on the bed, as well as the bloody knife in his hand. You smiled gleefully, moving closer to him when he sat down.

“So? Did you do it? Exactly like I told you?” you asked, looking at Ethan, eagerly awaiting his answer.

He shrugged, before he nodded at you. “Almost exactly. I managed to slaughter Quinn and her boy toy. Anika almost got away, but I managed to kill her as well. Pushed her off a ladder as she was crawling into another apartment. I managed to stab Mindy too.” Ethan smiled wickedly, the rush of his recent kills still flowing through his veins.

You smiled again, leaning over to kiss Ethan gently. He sighed into the kiss, melting into your touch. You pulled away and looked into his eyes, a proud look on your face.

“Good job baby. You did so well. Now, before we talk about your next victims, I think you earned a little reward, hmm?”

Ethan smiled excitedly. You crawled onto his lap, smiling down at him. Then you reached down and began to take your shirt off.

"Tap tap" on the glass go the piece of ass

So young and pretty, it's too bad she passed

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

She's demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight

“What the hell were you thinking?! You know you weren’t supposed to kill Quinn! You’re such a fucking idiot Ethan! And to think I even thought you would ever compare to Richie. You’re just a useless piece of shit! I wish you had died instead of him!” Wayne yelled at his son, anger in his eyes and hatred in his voice.

Ethan practically cowered under his fathers gaze, feeling as though he was shrinking under the harsh glare. He tried to say something, anything to defend himself. But he just couldn’t. There was nothing he could say to help calm his father down. The plan was to make it look like Quinn had died. But you had told Ethan to really kill her. So he did. Because he swore to do whatever you wanted him to. And the next thing you wanted him to do was kill his father.

Wayne scoffed at Ethan’s silence. “Oh I get it. This is about y/n, isn’t it? You’re still mad that I made you kill her, is that it? Get over yourself. She found out about our plan. She was going to ruin everything! We had no choice!”

Ethan’s fingers wrapped around the knife in his hoodie pocket, feeling himself grow angry. Ethan felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned to look, but you weren’t there. And yet, he still heard your voice.

“You know what you have to do. Just kill him, and then you can see me again. Don’t you want to see me again? We had so much fun last time. Didn’t we?”

Ethan nodded and steadied himself. He walked closer to his father, his gaze hardening. He clutched the knife handle tightly, not yet revealing the weapon.

“No she wasn’t! She swore to me that she wasn’t going to tell anyone! I loved her! I fucking loved her! And you took her away from me!”

Ethan was only a few steps away from his father now, and Wayne could practically feel the anger radiating off of his son. He tried to back up, but he was already leaning against the wall. Ethan pulled his knife out, holding it against his father’s throat.

“Whoa, careful now Ethan! What do you think you’re doing? Just put the knife down. We can talk about this. Okay?”

Ethan’s hand shook. Then he heard your voice again.

“Do it. All you have to do to see me again is kill him. Do it.”

Ethan’s gaze hardened and he felt himself grow more steady. Wayne opened his mouth to speak again, but Ethan already dragged the knife against his throat before the words could come out. He felt the blood splatter his face, the crimson liquid staining his pale skin. He watched with a smile as his father grasped his neck and fell to the ground, drawing in his final breaths.

“Good job baby,” you whispered in his ear.

He turned to see you, and you still weren’t there. But you would be.

In my bedroom, with her I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning come

Then she gone, I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exist in the dark of my room

Ethan walked into his bedroom and jumped in fright when he saw someone sitting on his bed. He felt himself calm when he realized it was just you. It was odd though. You had never been waiting for him on his bed before, you had always been outside his window, tapping on the glass and waiting to be let in. He pushed away his confusion, too overtaken by his excitement from seeing you.

You smiled, a sickeningly sweet one at that, and gazed upon Ethan, taking in his blood covered form. He felt chills run down his spine as you stared at him. His face was still covered in his father’s blood, and there was a blood stain coming from his pocket which held the knife. You reached out, beckoning Ethan closer. He did as you wanted, and sat beside you on his bed.

“You did such a good job baby. Killed your father, just like I asked. I’m so proud of you, my love.” The sweet look on your face did not match the darkness of your words. But somehow, the way you put them all together just made sense. And it drew Ethan in even more.

“Why do you keep asking me to kill people? Not that I mind, I’m just curious. You weren’t like this… before,” Ethan said, growing nervous as your smile faltered slightly.

“Nevermind that baby. All you need to know is that if you want to keep seeing me, you’ll do whatever I say. And that includes killing whoever I tell you to. Alright?”

Ethan nodded. You smiled once more, and brought your hands up to hold his face. You leaned in closer to him, kissing him hungrily. Ethan shivered under your touch. You were so cold, it almost felt as if he was kissing a frozen corpse. But it was you, and dead or not, he still wanted you. And clearly you still wanted him. So he decided that it didn’t matter. You were the only thing that mattered to him. And he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone take you away ever again.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan laid down on his bed, out of breath and filled with ecstasy. No matter how many times he had been with you, you never failed to take his breath away. You sat beside him, looking down at him and running your cold fingers through his hair. You had pulled his shirt on, and Ethan was lying underneath the covers. He felt his eyes slowly begin to close, your touch and your presence relaxing him.

“You can’t fall asleep just yet baby. I need to give you your next target. Or you’ll never see me again.” You frowned at your words.

Ethan’s eyes opened and he sat up, eagerly awaiting your instructions. He really didn’t have anything to lose anymore, since you had already instructed him to kill his sister and father, the last two members of his family. You were all he had now. His friends didn’t trust him. Which was technically well deserved since Ethan truly was the one behind all of the recent murders. Or more accurately, you were the one behind the murders, and Ethan was nothing except your puppet.

Still, he didn’t mind doing your bidding. Killing whoever you told him to. He found it thrilling. Not only did he get a rush out of killing, but he knew that every time he did it, you would show up that night, ready to reward him for his efforts. It was getting riskier and riskier for him, but he found himself not caring about the consequences anymore. As long as he got to be with you, he could care less about what would happen to him.

You smiled at his excitement, and ran your fingers through his hair one last time, before pulling your hands away. His shoulders fell slightly, but he tried to not let his disappointment show. He didn’t want to risk doing anything to upset you, because he didn’t want you to stop showing up. So he sat there, waiting for you to speak.

“Gale is next. While Kirby is running surveillance and everyone else is distracted, get into Gale’s apartment and gut her. And her little boyfriend too. Don’t go easy on them. Make it long, and painful. I want you to make a mess. I want you to destroy them. Do that, and I’ll come back tomorrow night.”

Ethan nodded eagerly, letting your instructions imprint in his mind. He had to do it exactly as you said. The last time he got a few details wrong, you didn’t go easy on him that night. He still had some of the bruises on his skin from it. This time, he wasn’t going to disappoint you.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan had done what you said, and he was currently hiding in Gale’s apartment. Her boyfriend walked by and Ethan grabbed him, placing his hand over his mouth tightly and pressing his knife deep into his stomach. The man groaned in pain, and Ethan only clamped his hand over his mouth harder. He twisted the knife and dragged it up, tearing his torso open. His organs began to spill out, along with excessive amounts of blood.

Ethan smiled. He had done exactly what you wanted. He picked up Gale’s boyfriend’s corpse and threw it into the wooden shelving structure in her living room, the corpse falling through to the other side, causing Gale to scream in terror. Ethan wiped his knife clean and jumped through the hole he had created.

Gale tried to run, but Ethan was faster, easily catching up and pushing her onto the ground. She tried to fight back, but he managed to keep her down. It was as if Gale realized she wasn’t going to get out of this. The fight in her eyes disappeared, and even though she still tried to fight, her efforts were significantly diminished.

Ethan plunged the knife into her side, not wanting to waste any time scaring her and risk her getting away. He had seen enough Stab movies to know that he had to move fast if he wanted her dead. He pulled the knife down, splitting her side open. Gale let out a guttural scream, choking on her own blood a few seconds later. Ethan pulled the knife out and moved back, stabbing her in the torso over and over again. She was a bloody mess, her flesh surrounding her in shredded chunks, and a pool of her blood forming beneath her.

He stood up and smiled at the work he had done. You were going to be so proud of him. Then he heard the door open. Ethan whipped his head around to see Sam and Tara standing there, looking terrified and heartbroken. He ran towards them, desperately wanting to get out of the apartment. He pushed through them and dashed towards the stairs, making it out of the building before either of them had time to react.

I try to smile a lot, but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much, when she do it gets cold

Usually we just lay there and we hold each other

Just like the night before, you had been sitting on Ethan’s bed, waiting for him to return from his activities. He wasn’t wearing the costume this time, but he held it in his bag, the mask and the knife almost completely covered in blood. But you didn’t even need to see the proof to know he had done what you asked. You just knew. And you simply smiled.

Ethan smiled in return, dropping his backpack onto the floor. He walked towards you in silence, knowing what was going to happen now. The two of you had formed a fucked up routine. He killed someone for you, you would show up in his room and fuck him, and then you would give him instructions for the next day’s victims. Excitement built up in him as he walked closer. You were underneath his covers, and he hadn’t noticed it when he first walked in, but you weren’t wearing anything. His blanket being the only thing covering you.

You sat up, letting the blanket fall down and exposing your bare chest to Ethan. He felt his breath hitch as he looked at you, and he quickly sat down beside you. He pulled his own shirt off, and looked at you expectantly, waiting to see what you wanted to do.

“I saw what you did for me today baby. And it was fucking perfect. You were just as brutal as I had hoped you would be. It was glorious.”

Ethan felt his heart race as you praised his work. He wasn’t used to people being proud of him, and the fact that it was you made it even better. He smiled widely, and he reached a hand forward, resting it on yours.

“It was all for you, my love.”

You smiled at his words, and wrapped your fingers around his hand, pulling him closer. This was going to be fun.

We're lovers, we don't need others

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby, guess she don't like pets

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

You were laying on Ethan’s chest, just enjoying each other's company, when a loud bang sounded from outside. You jumped up, clearly startled by the noise, and before Ethan could even react, you had vanished from sight.

“No! Shit! Uhm, fuck. Where did you go? I- I need you to come back. You need to tell me what I’m supposed to do! How will I be able to see you again?” Ethan pleaded, but there was no response.

The noise sounded again, and Ethan got up and walked over to his window. He saw a guy down there, setting off firecrackers, as the other two guys with him watched in delight. Ethan’s jaw clenched as he stared down at them. They were the reason you had left so abruptly. And they weren’t going to get away with it.

Ethan walked over to his backpack and pulled on his Ghostface robe, sliding the mask over his head, and holding the knife in his hand. Chad wasn’t home that night, and it was close enough to Halloween that no one would pay any mind to the bloody costume. Ethan walked out of his dorm and began heading for the ground floor.

He hadn’t been able to get instructions from you for the next kills, so he didn’t know how to get you back. But if killing is what brought you back to him, maybe he would be able to bring you back this way.

Ethan approached the three guys, all wearing letterman jackets. They were all very clearly wasted, most likely drunk off their asses and high on who knows what. But it meant they wouldn’t be able to fight back very well, which was great for Ethan. He probably would never be able to take down three frat boys all on his own. But three wasted frat boys? Now that he could do.

“Yo! Sick costume my man!” one of the guys called out as Ethan walked closer.

Ethan walked over to the closest frat boy, the one who had complimented his outfit, and stabbed him over and over again in the chest and stomach, before slitting his throat. He fell to the ground, blood seeping out of him.

The next frat boy, the one who had been lighting the firecrackers, looked up at Ethan terrified. He tried to back away, but his back hit a wall. He trembled in fear as Ethan grew closer. Ethan smirked to himself as he took in the guy’s fear, and had to hold back a laugh when he realized the boy had pissed himself.

However, the third frat boy had a very different reaction. Ethan turned in confusion as the third guy burst out laughing, tears falling from his eyes.

“Yo, Scotty is that you? Sick prank my man! It looks so fucking real! You almost got me dude.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and turned back to the second guy, stabbing him over and over again wherever he could, before finally plunging his knife into the guy’s head, right through his eye. He removed the knife, and a majority of the guy’s eye came out with it. The third guy’s eyes widened as he began to realize that this wasn’t a prank, and that Ethan wasn’t whoever the hell Scotty was.

“Oh shit!” he screamed, turning to run before tripping on his own feet and face planting onto the ground.

Ethan loomed over him, and raised his knife menacingly. The guy held up his hands, but Ethan ignored them. He raised his knife, and readied himself for his next attack.

Look baby, it's bloody, it's gone, it's doomed

Please come back to the room

I'll do anything for thee, don't ignore me

This is more than a sick love story

Ethan paced back and forth in his bedroom, waiting for you to show up. You hadn’t been waiting for him on his bed like you had been the past two nights. He was beginning to think you might not even show up at all. But then he heard a gentle tap tap tapping on his window, and turned to see you sitting there, just as you had been a few nights ago.

Ethan practically ran over to the window and threw it open, moving back so you could crawl inside. Your face was expressionless as you entered his room, and you looked around, almost as if you were searching for something. Ethan closed his window and then stood beside you, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I got rid of them. The guys who were making noise last night. I slaughtered all three of them and left them in the alley. It was the only way I could think of bringing you back to me.”

You smiled at Ethan’s words, and then grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. You kissed him, this time it felt more desperate than it had the previous nights. Ethan thought he might’ve lost you for good, and he couldn’t believe that his idea had worked. He had gotten you back. Maybe it didn’t matter who he killed, as long as he killed someone, you always showed up.

But he didn’t dare mention that to you. He was still going to kill whoever you told him to, and he didn’t want you to think he would ever even think about disobeying you. So he went along with what you were doing, letting you have your way with him. Before he knew it, you had taken his shirt off and pushed him back onto his bed. You were moving closer to him, staring at him hungrily. Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine as you got closer, smiling as you looked down at him.

“You did so good for me baby. So proud,” you smiled, and it was a bit condescending, but Ethan didn’t mind.

He smiled and nodded, feeling his heartbeat speed up from your words and from how close you were. This was going to be a night he would never forget.

Without you I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to, for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun'd be gone

Ethan rested his head on your chest, looking up at you. There was nothing but love and devotion in his eyes. You had him completely wrapped around your finger. He would do anything to feel you again. To even just see you again. And both of you knew it.

“Who do you want me to kill next, my love? I’ll do anything you say, no matter what. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

You laughed fondly and smiled down at him. “You’re so eager. Aren’t you? It’s not just about seeing me, is it? You love killing, don’t you?”

Ethan’s face went red and he looked away from you. It was almost as if he was embarrassed. But you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. There was nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, his passion for killing helped you out even more. It didn’t take nearly as much convincing as you thought it would to get him to do your bidding.

You placed a finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you. His face was still red, and you simply smiled at him, the sight comforting him slightly.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, baby. I’m right, aren’t I?” you smile turned into a smirk. His face blushed darker as he realized you were teasing him.

He slowly nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I love killing. I’d do it with or without you. N-not to say I want to do it without you! I never want to do anything without you. Ever!”

You smiled fondly. “I know baby, I know. You’re just as fucked up in the head as I am. And I love it. So fucking much.”

He smiled up at you, relaxing into your embrace. You brought your hand up to his head and started absentmindedly playing with his hair. He sighed softly at the feeling, relaxing even more.

“So, how is it going with everyone? Are they getting close to figuring out it’s you?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Mindy’s convinced it’s me, but she’s the only one. Everyone else is clueless.”

“She is, huh? Sounds like she’s going to become a problem. Don’t you think?”

Ethan nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“I want her gone next. Find a way to get the two of you separated from the rest of the group. Kill her. Make it look like you tried to protect her. Gain everyone’s trust. Can you do that?”

Ethan nodded, smiling widely at you. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

The group was currently headed to the Ghostface shrine, where they were hoping to lure in the killer in order to execute him. Too bad he wouldn’t be showing up.

Sam, Tara, Danny, and Chad had gotten onto the subway, the doors closing seconds before Mindy could get on. She had been left behind. With Ethan. Mindy glanced over at him uneasily, but Ethan simply smiled. He was trying to get her to trust him, but Mindy couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan wasn’t being truthful. Of course, she was right. But no one else had to know that.

Mindy and Ethan got onto the next train, and Mindy walked away from Ethan, not wanting to be sat close to him. Despite that, Ethan walked over and stood beside her anyways. Mindy looked at him confused, and tried shifting away, but Ethan just moved closer again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mindy asked, glaring at Ethan suspiciously.

“I’m trying to keep both of us safe. Safety in numbers, right? If we stay on our own, it’s more likely for one of us to be attacked. But by all means, if you’re willing to take that chance I’ll go stand somewhere else.”

Mindy sighed and shook her head, relenting. “No, it’s fine. I- I guess you do have a point. And if it is you, there’s no way you would try anything right now. So no harm done, I guess.”

Ethan smiled and nodded. “Exactly. I’ll protect you and you’ll protect me!”

The two of them stood in silence, resting against the door at the end of the train. The lights kept flickering, and Mindy glanced around uneasily. She had been trying to text Chad for the past few minutes, but there wasn’t any service. She grumbled and put her phone away, slightly shifting away from Ethan.

Then the train went dark. Ethan smiled to himself wickedly. Now was his chance. He turned, pushing Mindy against the door and holding his hand against her mouth. To anyone looking, it appeared to be two teenagers making out. The perfect cover. Mindy’s eyes went wide as she stared up at Ethan in fear. He pulled his knife out and sliced her torso open, from bottom to top. Her organs began to fall out, blood pouring out of the newly present opening. Ethan quickly wiped his knife off and concealed it again. Moving away to stand near the seats. Mindy fell to the floor.

When the lights finally came back on, Ethan looked over to see Mindy lying on the floor, and immediately pretended to freak out. He had to put on a good show, this needed to look realistic.

“Oh shit, Mindy!”

He rushed over to her side, crouching beside her, trying to help keep her blood in. An obviously futile task.

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood. Help! Somebody help!”

Ethan managed to get Mindy off of the subway and placed her on the ground, resting her against a column. She was clearly dead by now, but he didn’t stop trying to get help. Two security guards from the station rushed over to assist, and Ethan backed up, maintaining a panicked look on his face. Despite how upset he looked, he was overjoyed on the inside. Another victim down. And it was all for you. He would get to see you again soon, and he couldn’t wait.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan walked into his room and shut the door behind him. Just like you had before, you sat on his bed waiting for him. Ethan could barely contain his excitement at just the mere sight of you. You were beautiful. Even if you were dead, and you very clearly looked like it, Ethan still thought you were beautiful. It didn’t matter that you were covered in your own blood or that you were slowly rotting from the inside out. He would always think you were beautiful. No matter what.

“I did it. Just like you told me to,” he said, smiling widely as he walked over to you.

You smiled sweetly, your eyes still dark and soulless. “Good job baby. I’m so proud of you.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ethan relaxed into your embrace, leaning up against you. You kissed the top of his head and then pulled away, smiling again. But this time, it was more sinister.

“Only a few more left, baby. And then we can be together. Forever,” your sweet voice starkly contrasted the cruelness of your words.

Ethan nodded eagerly, turning to face you completely.

“Tell me what to do next. Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’d do anything to be with you forever.”

“I know you would, my love. That’s why I love you. More than anything else.”

Ethan smiled again. “I love you too.”

“So tell me about it. I want to hear everything,” you smiled wickedly, leaning forward slightly.

Ethan nodded. He went to answer, but you had moved so close to him that he just couldn’t help himself. Ethan leaned in and kissed you, feeling his head begin to spin from your touch.

Sometimes I kiss her, I start shakin'

She slips me the tongue, and it tastes like bacon

Uh oh, something's wrong, baby's upset

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

You giggled as you pulled away from the kiss. Ethan’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed. His heart was racing and his mind was moving so fast he couldn’t form any words. He looked over at you, smiling like a lovesick idiot.

“Come on darling. Tell me all about it.” You smiled again, growing excited from just thinking about the latest murder your boyfriend committed in your name.

“I did everything you asked. I got Mindy separated from the rest of the group. We were on a different train together. And when the lights on the train went out, I gutted her. Everything went perfectly.”

Before you could respond, Ethan’s door burst open. Chad stood there, glaring at Ethan. He felt a shiver run down his spine, Chad had never looked so angry before. So terrifying. Ethan turned to look over at you, but you were gone. Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Chad. It was his fault you were gone. How dare Chad take you away from him?

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you?! This whole time I trusted you. I defended you. And you were the killer this whole fucking time?!” Chad stormed over to Ethan, enraged.

He grabbed Ethan by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Ethan didn’t feel scared of Chad anymore. He was just angry. Chad had made you leave. And he wasn’t going to get away with it.

“How could you? You were my best friend! How could you do that? Why? Why did you kill Mindy?!” Chad yelled, keeping Ethan pushed up against the wall.

“I didn’t have a choice! It was y/n! They made me do it!” Ethan said, trying to keep Chad distracted. He subtly reached his arm out towards his nightstand, trying to grab his knife.

“Bullshit man! Y/n is dead! You probably killed her too! Tell me the truth! Why did you do this?” Chad only grew angrier, pulling Ethan away from the wall and shoving him against it again.

“I told you why! Y/n made me do it!” Ethan grasped the knife and pulled it over.

She can't come back now 'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

If I do she may come to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Ethan drove his knife into Chad’s side, blood instantly staining the fabric of his shirt. He immediately let go of Ethan as he screamed in pain. Ethan pushed Chad back, causing him to fall over onto Ethan’s bed. He walked over and stabbed Chad, again and again. Everywhere he could. Chad was long dead by now, nothing more than a bloody mess, but Ethan couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He had been wanting to see you all day, and now because of Chad, you were gone.

Ethan finally got off of Chad, leaving him unrecognizably mutilated. His room was completely covered in blood, making it look like something right out of a Stab movie. Ethan wiped his knife off on his bed sheets and shoved it in a pocket inside his jacket. He walked out of his room and left his dorm without a second thought. He was still covered in blood, but it was Halloween, so it didn’t matter. He could walk around like this and nobody would question anything.

Before he could even realize where he was going, he found himself heading towards Sam and Tara’s apartment complex. He was still in a blind rage, and he didn’t want to have to wait any longer to be with y/n forever. They were going to have him kill Sam and Tara anyways, so why wait any longer? He wanted to be with you now.

Ethan walked up the stairs, his eyes dark and his head numb. He wasn’t even entirely aware of his actions right now. He was angry, and the only thing he could think about was you. All he had to do was kill two more people, and then you could stay with him forever. So what if he had to kill all his friends and the only family he had left? It was all worth it for you. Anything would be worth it for you.

Cut the screen, went in and found the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

And the daddy was next runnin' down the hall

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall

Ethan knocked on the apartment door and waited. A few moments later he heard the locks clicking open. The door swung open, and Tara stood behind it. She gasped when she looked up at Ethan, who was still very much covered in blood. She moved aside to let Ethan in, and when she turned to lock the door, Ethan smiled to himself.

“Ethan, what happened?! Are you hurt?” Tara walked over to him and tried to check for any major injuries.

“No, I’m alright. But it- it’s just…,” Ethan trailed off, pretending to be holding back tears.

“What is it? What happened?” Tara’s eyes grew worried, and her breathing began to quicken.

“It’s Chad. He- He’s gone. The killer. They were in our dorm when we got back. They killed Chad. I- I managed to get away. I just feel horrible for leaving him behind,” Ethan choked on his words. He began forcing tears to fall.

Tara pulled him into a hug, feeling herself begin to cry as well.

“I- I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed against Ethan, burying her face against his shoulder. Ethan let her, and slipped his hand into his jacket, pulling out his knife. While Tara was distracted, he plunged it into her back, causing Tara to let out a bloodcurdling scream. He brought his other hand up to the back of her head, keeping her face pressed against him to muffle her screams.

He pulled the knife up, cutting through her flesh and leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He yanked it out and then stabbed her, over and over again. A pool of blood began to form beneath the two of them. Soon she stopped struggling, and her body went limp in his arms. Ethan let go of her and pushed her forward, Tara’s body falling to the floor.

“Tara? Are you alright?” Sam called from her bedroom.

Apparently the sound of a body hitting the floor was louder than Ethan thought. But at least he knew where Sam was. He wiped the blood off of his knife and slid it back into his jacket, walking towards where he heard Sam’s voice.

Tossed the Mossberg and gripped the knife

Started stabbin' the shit outta his wife

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (Tap, tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (Tap, tap)

He pushed the door open and cursed to himself when he saw Danny in Sam’s room with her. Taking the two of them down was going to be difficult. But he knew he would be able to do it. He would be able to do anything, as long as it was for you. So, Ethan stepped into the room.

He tried to make himself look sad, hoping he could make the two of them believe he was innocent. If he burst in here trying to kill them immediately, there was no way he was going to make it out of here. He glanced over to Danny, who sat up and looked at Ethan with concern once he saw how much blood was all over him.

Ethan would need to get rid of Danny first. He was going to be the biggest problem. Sam was probably going to be easier. Especially since she was unarmed and not expecting to be attacked.

“Oh my god. What happened to you?” Danny asked, a mixture of shock and confusion in his voice.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t as caring. She narrowed her eyes and she looked at Ethan. “How did you get in here?”

“Tara let me in. I- I came over to tell her about Chad. And then, the killer showed up. I- I tried to stop him,” Ethan’s voice broke as he began to fake cry again.

“What about Chad?” Sam asked, not believing Ethan’s story.

“He’s dead. The killer- he was waiting for us when we got back to our dorm. I couldn’t stop him. Chad told me to run. I- I-,” he cut himself off, crying even harder.

Sam stood up, walking over to Ethan.

“Where’s Tara?”

Ethan sniffled. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Sam nodded, then turned to look at her boyfriend. “Danny, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Sam gasped when she saw Tara’s body lying on the floor. She fell to her knees and started sobbing, shaking her sister in an attempt to get her to wake up. But she wasn’t responding.

“She’s not going to wake up,” Ethan said.

Sam turned around to look at Ethan. “What?”

Ethan sighed, then he pulled his knife out. “I said, she’s not going to wake up.”

Sam’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She stood up, her eyes turning dark.

“Mindy was right. It was you. Is that why you killed her? Because she was getting too close to figuring it out?”

Ethan shrugged. “More or less.”

“Why are you doing this? We haven’t done anything to you. There isn’t any reason behind this.”

Ethan smiled. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Richie was my brother. You remember Richie, right? The guy you brutally murdered last year.”

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. She had always thought Ethan looked familiar, but she had never realized why. Not until right now. She stepped closer to Ethan, and Ethan stepped back.

“So that’s why you’re doing this, huh? I’m the one who killed him! You didn’t need to hurt anyone else if you were after me!”

“Actually, that’s not why I’m doing this. That’s why this all started. It was me, Quinn, and our dad. He wanted to get revenge, and he easily talked Quinn into it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t think killing was for me. My mom was against it too. Or, at least she was until my dad made me kill her.”

“Quinn’s your sister? What, you guys did this as a family?”

“You ruined our family, so we wanted to destroy yours. But let’s just say that plans changed.”

“Why would you kill them then, huh? Why kill Quinn? Why kill your dad? I thought you guys were working together.”

“Oh we were. That was until my dad forced me to kill y/n. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret putting the bullet in his head instead. But he’s gone now. All I have left to do is to kill you and your little boyfriend. Then y/n will finally come back to me forever. They won’t have to leave again.”

“What are you talking about? Y/n is dead! You’re not making any sense!”

“I don’t care if it makes sense to you or not, I know the truth.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan didn’t waste anymore time. He lunged for Sam, trying to kill her. She dodged, causing Ethan to slice the side of her arm. Sam screamed in pain, her hand reaching up to press against the steadily bleeding wound. Ethan ran over to her, and was about to stab her again, when he heard Danny appear behind them. Ethan groaned and turned around.

“Yo! What the hell?” Danny said, in shock from the sight before him.

Ethan grumbled. “I don't have time for this shit.”

He stepped towards Danny and lifted his knife, slashing him across the throat. Danny fell to the ground, gripping his throat in an attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It didn’t do much at all, and he soon laid there on the ground, lifeless, in a puddle of his own blood.

Sam gasped as she watched Danny fall to the ground. Ethan turned around and ran back over to her, stepping on her leg to prevent her from getting away. He leaned down and grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling her up. She fought against his grip, but she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Ethan smiled, a mixture between joy and pure evil, as he plunged his knife into Sam. She screamed out in pain as she continued to try and escape. Ethan stabbed her again and again, adding to the continuously growing puddle of blood on the floor. Sam elbowed Ethan in the side, causing him to loosen his grip on her.

Sam freed her arm and immediately collapsed to the ground. She was losing a lot of blood, and was fighting to remain conscious. She tried to crawl over to the door, but moving was incredibly difficult, especially since she kept slipping in the blood on the floor. Ethan easily walked over to her, and pinned her down on the ground. He stabbed her again, this time in the neck. He twisted the knife, and Sam’s screams slowly died down as he tore through her throat.

Her body soon fell limp and he pulled the knife back out. He placed it back inside his jacket, not bothering to wipe it off this time. Now he had nothing left to do except go back to his dorm and wait.

I waited two or three days, four days

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, staring out the window. When he had gotten home last night, he cleaned himself off and then went to work on cleaning up his room. He moved Chad’s body into his bedroom, and locked the door before he closed it. Returning to his own room, he cleaned up the blood as best as he could, and he threw away the sheets that had been on his bed, not wanting to bother trying to remove those stains.

Now it was a day later, and everything had been cleaned up. He was sitting on his bed and waiting for you to show up, just like you had for the past few nights. Except this time, you were nowhere to be found. All night Ethan had sat and stared at his window, waiting for you to show up. But you never did.

Soon, the sun had come up. He stayed up all night waiting for you, and you never showed. He was upset, and he was confused. What had he done wrong? He had done everything you wanted and then some. He killed his best friend for you. He killed his family. He even killed the rest of the people you wanted all at once, so neither of you would have to wait anymore.

What had he done wrong? You always showed up. Everytime he killed someone, you showed up. But last night you hadn’t. Ethan felt himself spiraling, desperately trying to think of a reason as to why you didn’t show up. But he couldn’t find a single one.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Every night like clockwork, Ethan sat there and waited for you. He didn’t go to class anymore. He barely ate, barely slept. Seeing you again was the only thing that mattered. Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. And you were still nowhere to be found. It was beginning to drive Ethan crazy.

But he realized he couldn’t just go on like this. If he wanted to see you again, he would have to do something about it. He had been going over what he had done the last night he saw you, and then he realized something. He had missed someone. One of the victims that you had wanted dead was still alive. Kirby was still out there.

After the murders, Kirby had transferred to the FBI in NYC. She was still in the city. It wouldn’t be that difficult for Ethan to find her. Or for Ethan to get rid of her. Maybe if he killed her, you would come back to him. And maybe this time, you would never leave.

Kirby had given Ethan her number after everything that had happened. He was the only survivor. He had managed to pin all of the murders on Danny, and all of the cops seemed to believe him. Kirby didn’t want Ethan to be alone after all of this, so she gave him a way to contact her if he ever needed anything. He never planned on using it, not wanting to involve himself with the authorities anymore than he had to.

But now, he didn’t really have much of a choice. So he pulled his phone out and found her contact, pressing the call button.

“Kirby? It’s Ethan.”

I waited two or three days, four days ("Where is she?")

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she comin' back?")

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("I fuckin' killed those people!")

Ethan knocked on the door of Kirby’s apartment, anxiously playing with his hands. He just wanted to get this over with. He couldn’t wait any longer to see you, and the thought that all he had to do was kill one more person to see you again made him more excited than he could ever remember being. All of this waiting would soon be over. And he could finally be yours. Forever.

Kirby opened the door and let Ethan inside. As soon as the door was locked and Kirby was facing the other way, Ethan pulled out his knife and tackled Kirby to the ground. He stabbed her in her scar, twisting the knife. She screamed in pain as blood poured out of her, trying to push Ethan off of her. But it was no use, Ethan was over a foot taller than her.

He pulled the knife out and then stabbed her again, over and over, creating a bloody mess. He was so angry, mostly at himself, for messing this up. For being kept from you for so long. So many feelings were stuck bottled up inside of him, and he was finally able to let them all out.

He pulled the knife out for the final time, and smiled as he stood up. Kirby was definitely dead by now, the majority of her blood now laying in a puddle beneath her. Ethan shoved his knife back inside his jacket pocket and turned around, walking out of the apartment and leaving the door open behind him.

When he got home, you would finally be there. Waiting for him.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where the fuck is she?!")

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she coming back?!")

Ethan practically ran into his room, excitement building up inside him. But you weren’t there. His room was still empty. He sighed, feeling deflated. He slammed his door shut behind him and walked over to his bed, sitting down on it.

Maybe he would just have to wait. The last time you were scared away, you showed up later than normal. So all he would have to do was wait. He knew you were going to be coming back, he was sure of it. He had done everything you had asked, and everything that you were going to tell him to do. There’s no way you weren’t going to show up now.

He stared at his window like always, waiting for you to show up. Minutes went by. Then it was hours. And before he knew it, the sun was up again. You still hadn’t shown up. Why hadn’t you shown up? What else did he have to do?

Ethan screamed in frustration as he laid back on his bed. Maybe you were never coming back. Had you ever even really been there in the first place? All this time, everything Ethan had been doing for you, had you just been a hallucination all this time?

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. There was no way you were just a hallucination. He had seen you. He had talked to you. He had felt you. You had to have been there. You had to have been real. Because if you weren’t, then Ethan did all of this for nothing. He killed his family for you. But if you weren’t real, then he lost his only family for nothing.

I waited two or three days, four days (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always ("I can't believe I did it") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess ("I killed them!")(In my room, you and I)

Ethan had been spiraling hard since the day he killed Kirby. It had been a few days, and you still hadn’t shown up. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He didn’t know if you had really been there, or if you were just a hallucination. And the thought of that was driving him crazy.

He almost never left his room anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to miss you if you showed up. He was losing weight, and he was struggling to stay awake. But he couldn’t let himself miss you. Even if it destroyed him, Ethan would wait until you finally showed up again.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Ethan was losing it. He felt his mind begin to crack and reality slowly slipped away. He couldn’t tell what was real or fake anymore. He was hearing your voice all the time, but he still couldn’t see you. He was going insane, waiting for you to show up. The longer he waited, the less hope he had. He couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that you were probably never coming back. If you had ever even been there at all.

Ethan paced back and forth in his room, muttering to himself. He didn’t know what he was saying, he barely even knew what he was thinking. All he could bring himself to do was to stay in his room and wait. Sometimes he found himself forgetting what he was even waiting for. But he kept doing it, knowing deep down just how important it was. He just couldn’t bring himself to give up hope. He was going to see you again. He was sure of it.

I waited two or three months, four months (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where is she?!") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess (In my room, you and I)

Ethan’s hands shook as he sat on his bed, holding a gun inside his mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of waiting for you to show up, because he was beginning to doubt that you ever would. He had gotten so lost inside his head, waiting for you, that he let everything else in his life fall apart. He didn’t have any friends or family anymore, he had killed them all for you. He had missed so many classes that it would be pointless to try and catch up now.

His life had begun to revolve around you. You took up his every thought, filling his entire being. The longer he went without you, the more of himself he felt slip away. And now, there was nothing left. He was nothing anymore. He was just an empty shell. And it was all because of you.

His hands shook even more as he tried to get himself to pull the trigger. He pulled the gun out, sobbing as he began to shake even harder. He didn’t know if he would be able to do this. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the image becoming blurry from the tears in his eyes.

“Come on darling. I know you can do it.”

Ethan’s head shot up, as he desperately looked around for you. He couldn’t see you, but he had just heard you, he was sure of it. He heard your voice. Somehow, someway, he had heard you speaking to him.

“Just this one last thing. And then we can be together forever. Don’t you want that?”

Ethan slowly nodded his head. “Y-yes.”

“Good. So just put the gun in your mouth. And you can figure out the rest from there.”

Ethan did as you asked, his hands steadying. He brought the gun back up and placed it in his mouth again. He wasn’t afraid anymore. You wanted this. You wanted him to do this. And that was all the motivation he needed to finish this. The way he had intended.

“Come on baby. You can do it. I know you can.”

Ethan brought his finger to the trigger, readying himself to pull it. He slowed his breathing to calm himself down, and prepared himself for what he was about to do. Just a few more moments, and this would all be over. Ethan would finally be with you again. Forever.

“I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Ethan pulled the trigger.

Hey, man, let me get some of that

Yeah, uh, listen, I'm not a crackhead

When are y'all plannin' on buying me a cigarette

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