#my heart aches but fills with joy at the same time

[arthursfuckinghat]

"Arthur caught that."

"Did he?"

"And he killed that with his hands!"

[henrysbluecardigan]

just rewatched heartstopper s2 for the third time and i’m wondering how it’s possible to feel so empty yet also so happy and warm at the same time

[08luvmailz]

𓇼 ME MISS YOU . . ਏਓ !

summary 𓍯 which he followed you because he missed you ꒰ 🧾 ꒱ fluffy life with husband

The eerie silence and the harsh wind whispers weaving through the cool night air, though it's only 5:30 in the afternoon. Crouching low, I fisted my hands through my victim's hair and chopped his head off as my breath steadied, eyes locked on the faint rustle of the bushes—a promising sign of tonight's catch.

It's been almost a year of this endless cycle, by day cuddling and having a blissful life with Mr. Crawling as you give him endless affection, or he will whine to death, and by night- killing humans to feed him. As your eyes wandered through your vision toward the unmoving dead body, your mind wavered toward your husband even though you weren't married officially.

You two are together and bonded by our souls, obeying you and listening to you even though there is a gap in speaking, never ceases to stun you every day. He waits at home, is always patient, and is always trusting. The thought of his joy warms you as you tighten your grip on your crowbar and knife.

Back at the apartment, it feels unbearable still. Mr. Crawling gazes through the door—waiting for your return. His fingers relentlessly tapped the tatami board as it echoed through the room. It's been almost an hour since she left him, she always does every day for him.

He still remembered her voice firming when she told him to stay.

He watches her moving to gather her things, his legs tucked close to his body. He knows her too well—the same command she gives every time. Stay. He doesn't think about it but wants more of her touch, only about the moment before her absence, and he clung to her as his large frame wrapped around her waist. He chirped in a low tone, full of worry and protest. His grip tightened slightly, enough to make his point without holding her back.

He pressed his face into your legs, his arms curling towards your leg, "stay" he told her as he snuggled to her, not wanting to let go, “ you’re so stubborn” she murmured, stroking his head. The gesture was a silent reassurance for him to stop worrying though she knew it wouldn't stop him from worrying.

She turns to face him as his face is still smothered to her thighs, his cold lips puckering into her skin. He doesn’t need words to tell her how he feels; the way he clings to her, his body trembles faintly, caught between his instinct to obey and his need to protect her.

As her warm fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it calmly, she told him, " Me back soon; I find food. " she promised, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to worry.”

With a final sigh, she gently pries him off, his cold finger reluctant to let go. “Stay here,” she says, her tone firmer now, though her heart aches at the look he gives her. He didn't move and obeyed her, as she smiled one last time and crouched to his level to kiss his forehead, " I'll be back soon. I Promise," She said one last time to open and lock the door, leaving him in a trance with determination to follow her.

He was hesitant to disobey her requests and always did, lowering his head in submission. But now, in the suffocating silence, he feels the weight of her absence like a stone in his chest. He tried to wait, his attempts to distract himself with television, watching shows that helped him understand her language more, but as soon as his face glimmered when he saw the heroine with her lover cuddling in a scene. It was no use. missing her so dearly that his pull to follow her was too strong, an instinct older than obedience.

She is his world, his reason, and the thought of her out there alone, facing whatever dangers the night might bring, fills him with unease. Even though he knew she was capable of handling herself well, killing those people for him joyed him. He knew she loved him as much as he loved her.

Making his decision wasn't easy for him, he knew he would face the consequences of her ignoring him though he shook his head, he wanted to see her, he needed her now.

He moves swiftly to the door. His movements are precise and quiet, the art of going unnoticed. He knows where she has gone—he’s watched her enough times at the window to remember the path she takes. He follows her scent, a trail as familiar to him as the rhythm of his footsteps. With every step, he feels her grace like a taut thread, pulling him closer to her.

Its darkness yawned wide like the mouth of a beast. He hesitates for a moment, hearing her voice in his mind, Stay. Wait for me. But he presses on.

He moved carefully, his body blending into the dark foliage as his fingers gripped the pole lamp. He saw her gripping tightly to her crowbar and massively hitting her victim, he watched in awe as pride swelled in his chest at the sight of her—strong, capable, everything he admires.

Though he knows the facade she's been growing through back there in his world, he saw her unreality in a tick of time, and by the hanging thread of webs-he had been with her, and he knew she was close to insanity. Was she close? Or she's already been insane nevertheless, he will always be there with her.

She didn't notice him at first, focused on the task ahead. But then a chitter of a familiar voice captivates your attention as you whip your head, your coat shadowing your expression of bloodlust to confusion. There he is, his head tilted with his adoring smile. She shook her head with a giggle, he never listened to her as she pointed him to get closer to him.

He lowered his body as his smile creeped out to his ear, he skitters toward her, his movements quick but careful as he came faster to her and clung to her lower body as his face smothered to her bloodied coat "I miss you, I love you. " he said with a chitter as his cold hands hold her bloodied ones and directly placed into his head.

You sighed in intent and ruffled his hair as you looked down and cupped his face with our bloodied hands "You didn't listen to me, But I forgive you. " You crouched to his level as his hands wandered to your body and cupped your face and smothered a messy kiss on your lips, his cold lips puckering your bottom lip leaving a chitter from him. "Me love you, " he told you as he came closer to your body, his large frame almost hugging your smaller ones. You giggled to him as you corrected his grammar, always forgetting the "I", " I love you, too. "

He chirps, leaning into her touch, his body vibrating with relief, he clung to her like a baby as his face looked at the bloodied streets. "Food?" He questioned her, as his hands never left hers. "Yeah, food for you. " As she pointed to the dead body beside them.

As she stands up to place the chopped meat in a plastic bag with blood, "Let's go home." her hands directing him to hold her, he stands up, his towering silhouette blending with the shadows of the city. His mind is clear, his resolve unshakable. He is with her, the love of his life, and with every consequence they will face, he knows she will be there with him as she is with him.

[sleyu]

thinking about how mean!bf sirius would have a hugeee corruption kink, he just wants to ruin your mind yk

idk maybe its just me

i think mean or not, it is definite that sirius black has a corruption kink and it unquestionably couples with his possessive nature.

just imagine mean bf ! sirius meeting you for the first time. you’re a timid, but undoubtedly kind individual who is meek next to him—fully aware of sirius’ notoriety in his personality and habits. he becomes so awestruck, he has nothing to respond to your unassuming questions aside from the occasional nod or gentle murmur.

he displays a calm, relatively friendly aura until the pair of you begin to become acquainted with each other and ultimately, begin dating. it is only then, that the mean teasing and snickers begin, and his heart bursts with joy at the sound of your bashful whines and protests every time he playfully slaps your ass or tugs your skirt, laughing and pulling you close to him, muttering how his actions are all in good fun and that he’d never let anything actually hurt you.

‘so bloody sensitive. y’know i’d rather die than let someone lay a hand on you, dummy.’

and of course, sirius isn’t stupid. he’s been having lewd, perverted thoughts about you since the day he met you. in fact, it was only the same night that sirius cast a silencing charm around his bed to hide the sinful sounds of him grunting as he fisted his cock, thoughts about bending you over the classroom desk polluting his already depraved mind.

since you’ve started dating, he reckons it’s time to manifest these fantasies into life, especially after noticing how your meek gaze has begun to linger on his broad chest and widen at the sight of his bulging crotch. his inner self beams with joy and crude anticipation every time he feels you pawing at his thighs, looking up at him in despair as if you’re unsure of what you really want or why the throbbing ache in between your thighs is only getting worse.

i think mean bf ! sirius would definitely become dizzy at the sight of you on your knees, hands gripping his muscular thighs, begging him to let you suck his cock or to fill your cunt up. usually he was the one doing the begging, but here you were, pliant, obedient, and desperate for his every touch. he genuinely has to sit down and stare at you while also controlling the immoral urge of forcing his cock down your throat, watching how your eyes widen and become teary as your throat contracts and chokes around his pulsating cock.

he genuinely cannot control himself once he sees you fully submit to him, begging him to give you the exact things you were too shy about even insinuating merely a month ago. it makes him feel so accomplished knowing that he was the one that made your brain all cloudy and fuzzy—that he was the one who got your cunt hooked on the feeling of his relentless, unforgiving cock.

‘sirius—my fingers—they’re not good enough—need your cock in me—jus’ want you to ruin ‘n abuse me—please da—’ as soon as you become close to uttering the last word, he’s already lifted up your skirt and forced his cock inside your aching pussy anyways, groaning into your mouth and fucking you ten times harder than he would have any other day.

‘slut—you’ve become a little slut—oh, fuck—‘n who’s are you, huh?’

it becomes the first time that sirius loses all sense of reason and caution as it has become evident to him that he’s irreversibly corrupted you into becoming just as disgusting and perverted as him.

‘nah, not sirius’, honey, you're daddy’s, yeah?’

‘gross fuckin’ bitch loves that, huh, puppy? you like it when daddy forces himself inside you like that, hm?’

‘hogwarts newest slut, yeah? but only mine, isn’t that right? only i get to ruin—fuck—this whorish cunt—mmm,’

sirius is so mean, he doesn’t even tell you when he’s about to cum :( he makes you cum and afterward, you’re a fucked out mess because he just doesn’t stop. your eyebrows begin to furrow and you can only manage to mumble a quiet ‘sirius?’ before he groans into your neck, breath all hot and heavy, and pumps you full of his hot, sticky cum. all you can do is whine and writhe beneath him as he pushes your knees to your chest and uses your cunt to drain his massive cock.

all the while, he’s reveling in the realization that he has just cummed inside you and that if spells and birth control were forgotten, it would be no surprise if you fell pregnant with the copious amounts of cum pumped inside your spent hole.

‘my dirty girl likes when daddy breeds her, doesn’t she? oh, don’t shake your head, pup, i know you like it—can feel you clench—god—around me right now.’

sirius gets so turned on when you confess that you can’t make yourself cum without him ever since the two of you started having sex. the image of you crying out in frustration at the feeling of your own neediness and the dull throbbing in between your sore thighs—incapable of doing anything without his guidance—makes his cock harden far quicker than it should have.

‘poor thing. my dumb girl can’t do anything without me, can she? your small fingers just aren’t as daddy, hm?’ paired with a faux, mocking frown because sirius black is an asshole that is very visibly ecstatic that you’ll always have to come to him to find a release.

and nothing fuels his ego more than having you beg him to stuff you full of his cum before class begins. he loses his mind seeing the effects of ruining your perfect, angelic interior. his once smart, goody-two-shoes, good-girl has become a conniving slut, her own cunt betraying any logic or rational thinking within her mind :( seeing his shy, perfect-attendance girlfriend begging him to skip class with her to fuck in a dingy broom closet is all it takes for him to bust right then and there.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

[jo-com]

can you do a carlos x reader x charles

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒🐚 ೀ ➛ Two sides

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: The three of you are having a baby together—Charles being the nonchalant one while Carlos is the overreacting half.

Genre: Fluff, established relationship!, pregnancy, poly relationship, Nonchalant!Charles x Oa!reader x Oa!Carlos

Note: There are grammatical error and this is not proofread!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ˚⋆౨ৎ˚🌷⋅₊⋅─ ───────

Ever since you guys decided to have a baby—the two have been nothing, but ecstatic and over the moon with joy.

Their hearts gushed with excitement as they dread the day your little one will be born. Your once barely seen bump was now the size of a melon; making you go tired even after just standing up or even sitting on a chair.

Nonetheless the two boys were there, helping you throughout the whole process. One being overreacting while the other was nonchalant; though they acted differently, they still are the same when it comes to your needs and safety.

…

Of course Carlos being himself— he handled you with the outmost care, as if you were a porcelain doll that is so fragile one wrong move could crack.

On the other hand. Charles acts nonchalantly calm about any situation; He’s like the adult in the relationship— taking care of three kids at the same time.

…

“Mi amor, are you sure you don’t need extra pillows?” Carlos asked, his tone dripped with concern as he frantically circles around your chair.

Before you could answer your husband, Charles was quick to retaliate along with his signature eye roll, ”Carlos stop that, you’ll make her nauseous.”

Carlos lets out an exaggerated gasp, his eyes flickering from Charles to yours and automatically pouting his plump lips, “do you really feel that mi vida?, am i making our baby sick too?.”

You let a soft giggle and patted the head of the man in front of you, “baby no, what Charles mean is that i might puke from all your movements.”

“I am sorry, my love” he mumbled.

Carlos then drooped down your side, his head rested in your shoulder as he moped around.

Whilst consoling Carlos you could see from your peripheral that Charles was leaning on the wall and was looking at you two with pure love. His eyes filled with adoration and heart full of happiness.

You gestured for him to come and join you guys to which he happily obliged. Hugging you two and tightening his hold, making the three of you feel closer to one another.

…

You were now 6 months in the pregnancy— your bump was now more evident than before, making your two husband grow protective. Watching your every move like a hawk.

It got worse when Charles’ home Gp came around the corner. You wanted to go with and support them, but they refused to let you participate in anything that will harm your guys’ baby.

“I’ll be fine guys, i swear” you spoke, your voice a little strain from being tired.

Charles sighed heavily and stared back at you, his brows knitted in concern, “mon amour, we just don’t want you to feel tired.”

From the side, Carlos shook his head vigorously in agreement and grasping your hands in his. “Yes, we don’t want the baby to also feel tired.”

You lowered your head and sighed defeatedly, earning an eyebrow raise from the two.

If they won’t let you go, you’ll have no choice, but to use your secret weapon.

You looked back at them— your eyes curled into doe ones and your lips pulled into a pout. “But, I want to support you guys” you said imitating a baby’s voice.

Carlos’ heart ache from your puppy dog eyes and was easily wrapped around your finger. He glanced back at his other lover and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Maybe it’s not a bad idea, right Charles?” Carlos asked.

Charles looked at the two in disbelief, especially with Carlos. How could he give in easily.

But with the two of you combine, how the hell could he say no himself?

The two of you looked at him with sparkling eyes— drawing him over to your side. Sad to say that Charles didn’t make it and after about one minute in, he finally agreed.

…

“You ready baby?” Carlos asked, his hand softly caressing your bump.

You smiled back at him and nodded in response. “We’re here” Charles spoke, peeping in the window and checking the surrounding for your safety.

The entrance of the Paddock were bombarded by lots and lots of fan— waiting for the two drivers to appear in front of them.

Their chants of excitement and praise were heard from the inside your vehicle, making you feel a little bit uneasy.

As soon as you guys moved out of the car, Charles and Carlos instinctively covered you from all of the paparazzi and fans that were getting close. Their bodies towering over your meek ones— the uneasy feeling from earlier slowly left your mind as your two husband made sure you were safe and protected.

After walking down different garages, you guys were about to reach the hospice when one of the McLaren driver stood in your way. “Y/NNNNN” Lando yelled happily.

He was about to run in and hug you but was abruptly stopped by Charles’ broad chest.

“No can do muppet, can’t you see she’s pregnant”

Lando rolled his eyes and peered from Charles’ side. There you were, standing besides an overprotective Carlos— his hand moved you closer to his side. His eye’s laced with annoyance as he glared back at the other driver.

“Chill guys, i just want to greet my best friend” he spoke, walking pass by Charles and carefully taking you to his embrace.

With a smugish look, he hugged you tightly; not so tight that could hurt the baby but was enough to piss the two off.

Out of sheer anger, Charles quickly grabbed his collar and moved him to the side. “What the hell man, i swear if you ever do that again I’ll kill you.”

Meanwhile, Carlos softly led your figure to his and checked if you got hurt somewhere, his eyes were teary from the stupid move Lando just did. “Are you hurt any where my love? What about here?

…

The day lasted like that, where each of them had one role— Carlos would be the overreacting one who checks on you but will get teary from the slightest thing and Charles would be the nonchalant one with anger issues.

Now that’s what i call, happy family.

…

[moonselune]

Could I request some wholesome headcanons of the men meeting their baby for the first time after Tav gives birth? I’m a sucker for babies in your content!

More babies content yess!!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The dim light of the morning sun filtered into the room, casting soft golden hues over the bed where you rested, utterly exhausted but overwhelmed with the bliss of the moment. Your body ached in ways you didn’t even know were possible, and every breath felt like a sigh of relief after the long labor. Beside you, swaddled in a blanket, was your newborn baby, sleeping peacefully after the chaos of their arrival into the world.

You hadn’t expected to be awake when Gale entered the room, but his soft footsteps and the quiet rustle of his robes stirred you. He had waited so patiently, just beyond the threshold, giving you the time you needed to rest. But now, as he crossed the room to you, there was an unmistakable excitement in his eyes, an eager anticipation that couldn’t be contained. The moment he saw you and the baby together, Gale’s face lit up with sheer joy.

"You did it," he breathed, voice full of awe. "You’re incredible. Truly, I've never seen such strength and beauty in all my life—no hero in any story could compare to what you’ve done today!"

His words poured out in a rush, and you could see the way his hands trembled with barely contained excitement. He knelt beside the bed, his eyes shimmering with emotion as he gazed at you, then at the baby. "The most remarkable thing I’ve ever witnessed! You brought life into this world, my love. You’re an absolute marvel—no, more than that. You're—"

You raised a hand, placing it gently on his arm, a tired but fond smile playing on your lips.

"Gale," you interrupted softly, your voice filled with affection but laced with exhaustion. "Thank you, but… please… can you just hold the baby? And maybe just a be a tad quieter, my love."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your request. "Ah, of course," he said, his voice faltering for just a moment. But then, with that same boyish enthusiasm that made you fall for him in the first place, he beamed at you. "Of course! I’m sorry, I’m just… overwhelmed, darling."

Carefully, with a reverence that spoke volumes of his love and care, Gale leaned down and lifted the tiny bundle into his arms. His movements were delicate, as though holding the baby was the most important spell he had ever cast. The look of pure wonder on his face as he cradled your child for the first time made your heart swell.

As the baby shifted slightly in his arms, Gale’s eyes widened with joy.

"Oh, my little one," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness, but he began to get louder and louder the more enthralled with the baby he became. "Look at you—perfect in every way. Already a miracle, just like your mother."

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, exhaustion still pulling at your limbs, but the sight of Gale with the baby was enough to lift your spirits.

"Gale, you’re doing it again," you teased gently. "Just… enjoy the moment."

He blushed faintly, realizing how carried away he had gotten. "Right," he said, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Quiet. Yes, of course."

But even as he settled into the quiet, you could see the emotions bubbling up in him, his eyes shining as he gazed down at the baby in his arms. And, in true Gale fashion, he simply couldn’t resist the urge to speak again, though this time it was a soft, almost reverent whisper.

"You are such a wonder," he murmured to the baby, his voice barely audible. "Such a gift. I promise I’ll do everything I can to give you the best life, little one. You’ve already made mine infinitely brighter."

You watched with a smile as he continued to quietly shower the baby with praise, his gentle words filled with awe and love. The sight of him, so full of emotion, yet finally quiet and tender, made your heart swell with warmth. Despite everything, despite his usual tendency to ramble and fill the air with words, in this moment, he was perfect.

"You know," you said softly, your voice laced with amusement, "I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you."

Gale glanced up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he whispered, leaning closer to you with the baby nestled securely in his arms, "you did ask me to be quiet. But I’m afraid I can’t help it. You and this little one—you’re both my greatest accomplishments."

You chuckled tiredly, leaning your head back against the pillow as you gazed at him and your child. "You’re impossible."

"And you," he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, "are everything."

With your baby safe in his arms and Gale’s quiet whispers filling the room, you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you. For the first time in what felt like hours, you let your eyes close, the sound of Gale’s soft, loving words lulling you into a peaceful rest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The soft glow of the candlelight cast a gentle warmth across the room as you rested in bed, utterly exhausted but blissfully content. The labor had been long and difficult, but now your baby, your child, lay swaddled in a soft blanket, sleeping peacefully beside you. Every muscle in your body ached, and your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—love, joy, and exhaustion mingled together.

But there was one more thing you needed to happen, one more piece of this moment that would make it complete. You glanced at Astarion, who stood a few steps away, his eyes fixed on the baby with a look you hadn’t seen before—hesitation. His usual confidence, his sly, charming demeanor, had melted away entirely, replaced by something raw and uncertain.

He was standing there like he was staring at some delicate, untouchable treasure, unsure of how to proceed. His hands twitched at his sides, as though he wanted to reach out but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. You sighed softly, though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

“Astarion,” you said, your voice a little weak but firm nonetheless. “I just spent hours bringing this baby into the world. I think you can handle holding them for a few minutes.”

Astarion blinked, his gaze snapping to you as if he’d been caught in some sort of reverie.

“Oh, darling,” he began, his usual velvet tone laced with uncertainty, “I’m not so sure about that. I mean… what if I drop them? Or—gods forbid—what if they cry? Or worse, what if they don’t like me?” His voice was unusually soft, tinged with a vulnerability you rarely saw from him. You raised an eyebrow, half amused and half exasperated.

“In the nicest possible way my love, get a grip,” you said, though your tone was gentle, knowing how much this moment was overwhelming him. “I promise you, they won’t break if you hold them. And after everything we’ve been through together, I doubt our child is going to be scared of you.”

He hesitated for a moment longer, glancing back at the tiny bundle resting peacefully beside you.

The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at your heart, but you weren’t going to let him stay trapped in his fear. You reached out with your hand, gesturing toward the baby. “Come on, Astarion. I know you’re not afraid of something this small.”

Astarion took a slow breath, then gave you a weak smile. “You make a compelling argument, my love. Very well, if I must.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but the nervousness in his eyes remained.

He approached slowly, like a predator stalking something fragile and precious, his usual grace turning into something cautious. With careful, almost exaggerated precision, he knelt beside the bed and reached out. His hands hovered above the baby for a moment, and you could see the hesitation still lingering in the way his fingers trembled slightly.

But finally, with a steadying breath, he slid his hands beneath the baby, lifting them up into his arms. The moment the tiny weight settled against him, Astarion froze. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared down at the small, sleeping face nestled against his chest. The baby’s tiny fingers twitched, and Astarion’s expression softened in a way you had never seen before.

You watched as something shifted in him—his fear giving way to awe. The tension in his shoulders melted, and he cradled the baby closer, his arms instinctively wrapping around them with surprising tenderness.

“Well,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I think they’re still in one piece.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I told you they wouldn’t break.”

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

“They’re so small,” he murmured, his usual bravado stripped away completely. “So… perfect.” He glanced back down at the baby, his thumb gently brushing over their tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly at his touch, their little fingers curling around his thumb, and Astarion’s breath caught in his throat.

For a long moment, he just stared down at the baby, his gaze filled with wonder and disbelief.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate peace of the moment. “Most of them… not good. But this…” He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “This is something I never thought I’d have.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him.

“You deserve this,” you said softly. “We both do.”

Astarion’s eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, his gaze was full of something vulnerable, something raw.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “For this. For them. For… everything.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm, feeling the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. Astarion let out a soft laugh, though it was tinged with emotion.

“I suppose I’ll have to be, won’t I? Not much choice in the matter now.” But there was no regret in his voice, only a quiet determination. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You’ve got a lot ahead of you, little one,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t worry. Your mother and I will be here, every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his gaze filled with a quiet intensity.

“Together,” he said, his voice steady now, full of resolve. “We’ll do this together.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll stood at the entrance of your room, a rare hesitation in his posture. He’d fought monsters, faced devils, and had become the Blade of Frontiers, a hero in his own right. But this moment, seeing his child for the first time, had him more nervous than he ever remembered feeling.

He glanced at you, resting on the bed, looking exhausted but radiant, and his heart clenched with overwhelming love. He had witnessed your strength through countless battles, but what you had just endured was something far beyond his understanding. You had brought a new life into the world—his child, your child—and now, it was waiting to meet him for the first time.

The midwife nodded, encouraging him forward, and Wyll took a deep breath before stepping inside. The tiny bundle in her arms was swaddled tightly in a soft blanket, a small, wriggling thing with a mop of dark hair, just like his. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him as he reached out with trembling hands.

"Go on," you murmured with a tired smile, your voice gentle and reassuring, though you could see the nervousness in his eyes. "Hold your child."

Wyll slowly took the baby into his arms, careful and deliberate, as if he were handling the most fragile treasure in the world. The weight of the tiny body settled against him, and his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the world, the dangers, the chaos. There was only this.

The baby stirred in his arms, letting out a soft, sleepy sound, and Wyll’s heart melted. He looked down into the face of his child, his eyes wide with wonder, and time seemed to stop. He had imagined this moment, dreamed of it even, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming wave of emotion that crashed over him.

"Hello, little one," Wyll whispered, his voice thick with awe. His thumb gently brushed over the baby’s tiny hand, and the baby’s fingers instinctively curled around it. That small gesture made his eyes burn with unshed tears, his chest tightening with a love so fierce it nearly took his breath away. He turned to look at you, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

“Look at them. Just… look at them.” His smile was wide, but there was a hint of disbelief behind it, as if he couldn’t fully grasp that this was real—that this tiny life was part of him, part of you both.

You smiled, your exhaustion temporarily forgotten as you watched Wyll cradle your child. The tenderness in his expression was something you had always loved about him. The way he cared so deeply, not just for you, but for everyone he fought for, everyone he protected. And now, that same fierce devotion was shining through as he held your baby, his baby, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

Wyll’s gaze returned to the baby, and he chuckled softly, though his voice trembled.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against the baby’s. “So perfect.” His words were barely more than a breath, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at the tiny face in his arms, his heart full to bursting. The baby squirmed slightly, and Wyll adjusted his grip, instinctively swaying on his feet to soothe them. His touch was gentle, reverent, as though he couldn’t believe he was allowed to hold something so precious.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he be a good father? Would he be able to protect this child, to teach them, to give them the life they deserved? But as he looked down at the baby’s peaceful face, those worries seemed to fade. He didn’t know all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain: he would love this child with everything he had.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“You’ve got so much ahead of you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But don’t you worry. Your mother and I—we’ll be here every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he said, his voice trembling. “For this. For them. For everything.”

He shifted the baby slightly in his arms, cradling them closer to his chest as he sat down beside you. Together, you sat in peaceful silence, the weight of the moment settling over you both. Wyll’s heart was full, more than it had ever been, and as he looked down at the tiny life in his arms, he knew that this was only the beginning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun, casting warm golden light across the floor as you lay in bed, utterly spent but at peace. The long hours of labor had taken everything from you, and yet, you felt a quiet, serene joy as you looked down at the tiny bundle nestled against your chest. Your baby, warm and sleeping soundly after the ordeal, made every ounce of effort worth it.

Halsin had been with you for every moment of the labor, never leaving your side, his strong, reassuring presence a constant comfort. He had been so calm, so focused, using all of his experience as a healer and midwife to guide you through the pain, offering soft words of encouragement, steady hands to hold. He’d seen countless births before, delivered more children than he could remember over the course of his long life. But now, standing near the bed, looking at you and the baby with a strange, hesitant expression on his face, he was a different man.

You caught his eye, seeing the quiet turmoil behind the tenderness in his gaze. He had helped you bring this child into the world, but now, as the reality of it all settled in, it seemed as though Halsin was uncertain. You could sense his hesitation, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from stepping closer. It was so unlike him to be unsure of anything, especially something as familiar as holding a baby.

“Halsin,” you called softly, your voice still hoarse from the effort. “Come here.”

His eyes flickered to yours, and there was something deep in his gaze—an emotion that he rarely let show. He approached, slowly, as though he were afraid of disturbing the peace of the moment. The air felt heavy with something unspoken, something more than just the awe of meeting his child for the first time. He had held thousands of newborns, but this… this was his.

When he finally reached you, he knelt beside the bed, his large hands resting gently on the mattress as he looked at you and the baby. His gaze was soft, full of love, but there was a trace of uncertainty, a vulnerability that made your heart ache for him.

“I’ve delivered so many babies in my time,” Halsin said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I have held them, cared for them, watched their mothers smile with pride… But this is different. This is ours.”

The depth of his words sank into you, and you reached out, placing your hand gently on his.

“Halsin,” you murmured, “you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on the tiny form cradled against you.

“I have. And yet, now that it’s here…” His voice wavered for a moment, something that almost never happened to the confident, wise druid. “I find myself unsure.”

You smiled softly, lifting the baby a little, motioning for him to take them. “You’ve done this a thousand times. But I understand—it’s different when it’s your own child.”

He hesitated again, his eyes searching yours for a long moment, before finally reaching out to gently take the baby into his arms. His touch was tender, far more careful than it needed to be for someone who had handled newborns for centuries. But as the baby settled into his arms, the look of awe and wonder on Halsin’s face was something you had never seen before. His whole demeanor shifted, as though the weight of this moment was finally settling in, and he was letting himself feel it fully.

The baby stirred slightly, tiny fists curling and uncurling as they nestled against Halsin’s chest. He breathed out slowly, a deep, shuddering breath, as though the enormity of the moment was finally catching up with him.

“They’re so small,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder. “So… perfect.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you saw the gentle giant of a man cradling the baby with such care, such reverence. There was no one else in the world you trusted more in this moment, and seeing the tenderness in his eyes only made you love him more.

“They are,” you agreed softly. “And they have your nose.”

Halsin’s lips twitched into a soft smile, though his gaze never left the baby’s face.

“I suppose they do,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet joy. “A piece of me, and a piece of you… a perfect balance.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the gentle breathing of the baby in Halsin’s arms. You watched him, watched the way his heart seemed to melt with every tiny movement, every small breath.

Halsin leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss across the baby’s forehead, his expression full of love and reverence.

“I never imagined this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “To have something so precious, so full of life, to protect and nurture.”

“You’ll be an amazing father,” you assured him, reaching out to gently brush your fingers against his cheek. “You already are.”

He turned his gaze to you then, and the look in his eyes nearly stole your breath away. There was so much love there, so much gratitude and wonder.

“And you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, “are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. What you’ve done today… you’ve given me a gift I can never repay.”

You smiled softly, your heart full. “You don’t need to repay me, Halsin. We did this together.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with awe as he looked down at the baby again. “Together,” he repeated quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The room was dimly lit by the early evening light filtering through the curtains. You lay back in bed, exhausted but content, a quiet joy filling your heart after the long hours of labor. The midwives had just left, and now it was just you, Rolan, and the little bundle swaddled in blankets beside you. Rolan had been pacing for the last few minutes, wringing his hands in that nervous way he did when he was overwhelmed, clearly on the edge of his emotions. You watched him, feeling the anticipation radiating from him, and a soft smile tugged at your lips.

"Rolan," you called gently, your voice tired but warm.

He stopped his pacing and turned to you, his eyes wide, as if he had been waiting for some sort of permission. You knew him well enough to understand what was holding him back—this was new, different, a moment he had been dreaming of but was terrified to actually embrace. He was usually so confident, especially with his magic and his sharp tongue, but here, in the presence of his own child, that facade of arrogance had melted away.

"Come," you said softly, motioning to the baby. "It's your turn."

His eyes flickered from you to the tiny figure nestled in the blankets, and you saw a spark of wonder light up in his gaze. Slowly, as if in a trance, he approached the bedside, his breath coming in shallow, quiet huffs. He stood there for a moment, just looking, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. "What if… What if I—"

"You won't drop them," you assured him with a small smile. "Just hold them like this," you added, gently guiding his hands to support the baby.

Rolan swallowed hard, nodding as he gingerly slid his hands under the baby. As soon as he lifted the tiny bundle into his arms, the world seemed to shift. He held them as if they were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, cradling them close to his chest. The look on his face was one of pure awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was holding was real.

"They're… perfect," Rolan whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he gazed down at the baby. His fingers lightly brushed the baby's cheek, and a breathless laugh escaped him when the baby’s tiny hand instinctively curled around one of his fingers. "By the gods, look at them."

The way he said it, with such reverence, such pure admiration, made your heart swell. You had never seen Rolan like this before—completely vulnerable, overwhelmed with emotion, his usually sharp, guarded demeanor utterly gone. His gaze never left the baby's face, his expression full of wonder and disbelief.

"They're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "How… How did we do this? How can something so… perfect come from us?"

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched him, the love and awe in his face making your chest tighten. "It feels unreal, doesn't it?"

Rolan nodded slowly, still staring at the baby with wide, glistening eyes.

"I—I don't even know what to say," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I could feel this… this way. I never knew…" He trailed off, shaking his head as if words had failed him completely.

The baby stirred slightly in his arms, their tiny face scrunching up for a brief moment before relaxing again, and Rolan's breath hitched. He looked down at the baby as if they were the most precious thing in the world—because, to him, they were. His shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a shaky breath, his gaze softening even further.

"They're so small," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "So fragile. I don't know how to… how to be enough for them."

"You'll be more than enough," you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. "Look at you, Rolan. You're already in love with them."

He glanced at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he gave you a small, shaky smile.

"How could I not be?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "They're… gods, they're perfect."

For a moment, he just stood there, holding the baby close, his expression one of pure, unfiltered love. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, and it was just him and the baby, wrapped in a quiet, sacred moment of connection. You could see the way his entire being had softened, the way he was completely, utterly captivated by the tiny life in his arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The room was filled with the flickering warmth of the hearthfire, casting long shadows across the walls. You lay in bed, utterly exhausted after the long hours of labor but relieved, heart swelling with joy. A small, fragile bundle rested in your arms—a new life, the child you and Raphael had brought into this world.

Raphael stood near the foot of the bed, his crimson eyes glowing brighter than usual, a mix of wonder, pride, and something else—a fierceness, as if this was a moment he had been anticipating for centuries. His typical, devilish arrogance seemed softened, his sharp grin tempered by genuine emotion.

"My love," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet but tinged with an awe you rarely heard. "You have done it. You have given me an heir—our child."

You could see the pride swelling in him, his chest puffing out as if he were ready to declare this triumph to the entirety of the Nine Hells. He approached the bedside with an intensity in his step, eyes fixed on the newborn. His hands, for once devoid of their usual grandeur, reached out to gently touch the tiny head wrapped in swaddling cloths.

For a moment, his gaze softened even further, lips parting as if to say something tender, but instead, the devil in him couldn't help but emerge. He straightened up, lifting his chin with a certain dramatic flair.

"An heir to rule the Hells, to carry forth my legacy," he whispered with reverence, his eyes now alight with a wicked gleam.

He reached down, gently but firmly, and scooped the baby up into his arms.

"Look, little one!" he declared, turning towards the open window that faced a tear in reality—the distant, shimmering view of Avernus, the first layer of Hell. "All of this will one day be yours. The Hells will tremble beneath your feet, just as they have mine."

With surprising ease, Raphael lifted the newborn up, holding them toward the portal to Hell as if presenting his child to the infernal realm itself.

His pride was palpable, his voice thick with grandeur and excitement. "You will be the most feared and respected, a ruler, a—"

"Raphael!" you snapped, sitting up in bed, alarmed. "Stop lifting the baby like that!"

Your sharp voice broke through his grandiose moment. He immediately froze, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of holding a newborn up in such a manner, he lowered the baby back down, cradling them properly against his chest. The fierce glow in his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the slightest flush of embarrassment creep across his sharp features.

"My apologies," he murmured, glancing at you sheepishly, though his smile was still laced with pride. "I—" He cleared his throat, chuckling softly. "I was simply… enthralled by the moment. They are just… perfect."

Raphael looked down at the tiny face of his child, his usually cocky and collected demeanor cracking, revealing the depth of his emotions. His thumb gently stroked the baby’s cheek, his gaze fixed on them as if nothing else in the world mattered. For all the pride and theatrics, there was no denying the raw tenderness in his eyes now.

"You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible," he said quietly, his voice losing its usual boastfulness. "This child—our child—has made me proud in ways I cannot even begin to describe."

He stepped closer to the bed, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you, still cradling the baby in his arms as though they were the most precious thing in existence. "And you, my love… You’ve given me everything. I shall never forget this."

You smiled, despite the earlier scare, your heart warmed by his devotion, his love. Even now, in this quiet moment, Raphael was both the devil you knew and something far more vulnerable—a father. His fingers, so accustomed to weaving magic and signing infernal pacts, were now tender, holding his newborn as if they were made of glass.

"You don’t need to show them Hell just yet," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, still tired but comforted by Raphael’s presence.

Raphael chuckled, his sharp grin returning as he gently rocked the baby in his arms.

"Perhaps not," he conceded with a glint in his eye. "But one day, they will know it—just as they will know the heights of power they were born for. But for now… they shall only know peace. And love."

His voice softened as he gazed down at your child, his earlier bombastic nature ebbing away as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. He held them close, marveling at the tiny life nestled in his arms.

"So small," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "And yet, they will shape the fate of realms."

For a long while, Raphael stayed like that, his eyes never leaving the baby, his body unusually still, completely captivated. You watched him, seeing the pride and love interwoven with his usual ambition. And in that moment, you realized that, for all his grand schemes and devilish desires, this was the most important thing in the world to him—your family, your child.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The restraint I had to have to not put in the 'everything the light touches is our kingdom' line from lion king in Raphael's bit ahaha. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[zyhkoo]

☆ till the light leaves my eyes

angst to fluff (?) gn! reader

Jason realized that he can’t let you go. part 1

a/n: heres part two!

Lately, Jason had found himself grappling with a host of unsettling thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he returned your affections, if he could feel the same way about you that you felt about him.

He knew that you brought joy and light into his life, and he couldn’t understand why he was unable to offer you the same. The question of why he couldn’t simply reciprocate your feelings weighed heavily on his mind.

The two of you were currently sitting in a cozy burger shop, surrounded by the warmth and commotion of a Saturday night. The aroma of sizzling burgers and crispy fries filled the air, a familiar and comforting scent. The clinking of silverware against plates and the buzz of chatter from other patrons filled the background, creating a soothing white noise.

You were intently focused on your phone, your expression a mixture of concentration and frustration. Your eyebrow was furrowed, and you were biting your lower lip as you navigated whatever was on the screen.

Jason casually glanced over at you, his eyes tracing your every move. He noticed the frustrated expression on your face and your furrowed brows. “Everythin’ okay over there?” he asked.

You briefly looked up from the screen, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, just frustrated,” you replied, putting your phone down on the table. “My friends are trying to set me up.”

Jason's heart sank a little as he heard your words, but he quickly masked the pain. "Oh, really?" he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "Who's the lucky guy?"

He could see the flush in your face as you scoffed, “Not you too..” you groaned, darting your eyes.

Jason raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "What? Can't I be curious?” he teased. “Is it someone I know?” You rolled your eyes, a small grin on your face. “You're just as bad as my friends,” you replied, shaking your head. “It's no one you know, trust me.”

He didn't want you to know how much the idea of you dating someone else bothered him, but he knew that he couldn't stand in your way. “You should go for it,” he said, forcing a smile. “You never know unless you try, right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, could he let go so easily? “You think so?” you blinked.

“Yeah, why not? It could be fun y’know.” He tried to sound encouraging, but the words felt like sandpaper on his tongue. Your eyes dart to your best friend then to your phone. Then you sighed, picking up your phone again “I’ll do it.”

Jason swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched you text back your friends. The idea of you going on a date with someone else made him feel nauseous.

Jason couldn't understand why the prospect of you dating someone else was bothering him so much. He shouldn't be concerned - it was your life, after all. So why did it feel like someone was physically squeezing his heart?

When you started dating someone else, Jason felt an aching emptiness within his heart. Despite the fact that the two of you continued to spend time together, he couldn't shake the pain and heartache of knowing that you now belonged to someone else.

He longed for the days when it was just the two of you, when the bond between you was uncomplicated and unbroken. It was as if a piece of him had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole that he struggled to fill.

As time went on, Jason noticed a gradual drifting apart between the two of you. Maybe it was because he had allowed you to spend more time with someone else, he thought.

He couldn't help but wonder if his inability to fully be with you, to reciprocate your feelings, had led to this gradual separation. The realization filled him with a sense of regret and melancholy, and he found himself grappling with the loss of the closeness once shared.

Jason couldn't help but feel that he had brought this upon himself. He believed that you deserved happiness and love, and he knew that he was unable to give you that. This realization only deepened his sense of guilt and self-blame, as he thought that he had driven you into the arms of another with his emotional unavailability.

The only moments you and Jason spent together now were during your joint patrol duties. The once frequent hangouts and relaxed times spent together had been replaced by moments of necessity and obligation.

Jason noticed that there was something different about your behavior during your patrol one evening. Once the patrol was finished, he decided to head over to your house, his concern growing with each step he took. He cautiously approached your window, giving it a gentle knock, hoping to catch your attention.

When you pulled back the curtains and saw Jason standing there in his full vigilante garb, your eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t every day that he paid you a visit in this fashion, and the sight was unexpected, to say the least.

You immediately slide open the window “Hi, is there anything you need?”

Jason stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat “Can I come in?” he asked.

You nodded and stepped aside to allow him to climb through the window and into your room. He looked around, taking in your surroundings before focusing his attention back on you.

You sheepishly smiled “It’s a bit of a mess, I’m sorry.” you scratched your head. Jason's gaze roamed over the room, taking in the mess and disarray. He shrugged, "It's fine," he reassured you. "I've seen worse."

You couldn't help but notice that Jason hadn't addressed you by his usual nickname. It struck you as odd and out of character for him. You fidgeted nervously, your fingers tracing random patterns on the surface of your bed.

He wasn't particularly skilled with words, and he struggled to find the right thing to say. Jason asked, "Are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight and constricted. Words failed you for a moment before you managed to force out a response. "I'm..." you trailed off, your voice caught in the emotions you were trying to suppress.

Jason could see the turmoil in your eyes, picking up on the subtle signs of distress. He took a step closer, his expression one of deep concern. "You don't have to hide anything from me," he said gently.

You swallowed again, trying to push down the tightness in your throat. "It's just...been a tough few weeks," you finally managed to get out. “We broke up.”

Jason's expression shifted to one of shock as you revealed that you had just gone through a breakup. His eyes widened, and a mix of surprise and confusion registered on his face. He hadn't been expecting this revelation, and it seemed to hit him unexpectedly.

You had been dealing with the aftermath of a difficult breakup, and seeing Jason again after everything that had happened between you only added to the turmoil inside you. You were grateful for his presence, but the pain and confusion lingered, creating a tangled web of emotions.

Amidst the pain and heartache, there was one singular thought that echoed in your mind — the realization that the person you truly wanted was standing before you. All you longed for was Jason.

Your knuckles turned white as you clenched your fist tightly, the pain and frustration of the breakup. Your gaze flickered downward, finding it hard to meet Jason's gaze. "We just...couldn't make it work," you whispered, your voice shaky.

He hated seeing you like this, suffering and clearly hurting from the aftermath of a failed relationship. The urge to reach out and take away your pain was strong, but he knew he couldn't simply fix it with a few words or a simple gesture.

Instead, he took your clenched hand in his, gently prying your fingers open and intertwining them with his own. "I'm here for you," he said quietly, his voice steady and sincere. "You don't have to go through this alone."

Your eyes stung with tears as you pulled him into a tight embrace. The floodgates opened, and your emotions poured out in that single, desperate gesture. Jason's arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close, holding you together.

“I missed you.” your confession was soft, a mere whisper against his chest, but it echoed loudly in his ears. Jason's heart squeezed, a mix of emotions flooding his mind at your words. He pulled you closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"Missed you too, doll." he replied, his voice thick with an unspoken weight. "So much."

“Days without you was so agonizing.” you whispered. He ran his hand gently over your back, a comforting gesture meant to soothe your heart. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice gentle and firm. "I'm right here… and I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t love anyone else Jason. I only love you.” Your grip on him tightened, your voice shaking as you confessed your enduring love for him. Jason's heart ached at the pain and vulnerability in your words, and his own grip on you involuntarily tightened as well.

He was tired of resisting his feelings, of denying the truth that he had been fighting against for so long. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, of watching you slip through his fingers once more.

Jason's heart ached as he finally let go of his stubborn resistance, acknowledging the love he had for you that he had been trying to ignore. With a surge of determination, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him. He needed you to understand the sincerity of his words.

"Doll," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, "it's always been you. Ever since the beginning, it's only been you."

He pulled you closer, his eyes searching your face as if looking for confirmation that you were hearing the weight of his words.

"Please, believe me," he murmured, his voice ragged with emotion. "I'm done pretending. I can't keep denying what I feel for you." Your breath hitched, you gazed at his eyes. You were absolutely stunned, you had no idea what to say. “What.. what you feel?”

"What I feel for you," he repeated, his tone gentle but firm. "I..." he paused, the words catching in his throat for a moment. "I love you, doll."

Jason’s thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "I realized it too late, but I can't deny it anymore. I love you. I always have. I always will."

“Jason..” your voice trembles in a small whisper. He leaned in, meeting your lips in a kiss. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer to him as he melted in the taste and feel of you.

Your hands clenched the fabric of his jacket, a silent plea for him to stay close, to never let go.

He broke the kiss, his breathing wqs ragged. He rested his forehead against yours, his gaze still filled with intensity. "I know I've been an idiot," he murmured, his voice rough. "But I want to make it right. I want to be with you, doll. If you'll let me."

“I’ll love you till the day that I die.” you responded.

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[jwanniie]

Mascara stains.

G!P NINGNING x FEM READER!!

Genre: friends with benefits,angst and smut!!

Word count: 1,2k

Summary: you knew from the start being friends with benefits was a bad idea! But here you are now in front of her door, mascara staining your plushy red cheeks….

Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, breeding, p in v, fingering, friends w benefits, mention of drugs and unprotected sex! (Be safe!)

I got this idea from the song K. And I just had to type it down! Enjoy!

⊹₊ 𓏲*ੈ✩‧˚₊ ⊹

Here you are again in front of her door, like the last time and the time before that and before that. The only difference was that now you have the courage to ask her why? Why did she do this to you? Why did she just abandon you like that? What does that girl have that you don’t? All of those questions ran through your mind, she just left like that, like you were nothing but a little plaything when she got bored of you she threw you. You knew being friends with benefits was a bad idea, but that was the only way you could be with her, be something with her. It all started when you had this drunk make out session that turned the soft gentle kiss into a hungry passionate one, which lead to both having mind blowing sex. And things just happened,meeting each other multiple times a week, to have that same mind blowing sex again and again. You fell for Ningning even more, at first that cute little attraction turned into actual love. It hurt you the fact that she just saw you as a friend she had some kind of affair with.

And over that stupid decision of yours now you are heartbroken, mascara stains all over your plushy red cheeks with tears actively flowing down your beautiful galaxy filled eyes. You have been crying for weeks eyes constantly puffy and red, your appetite down and just your heart feeling heavy and sore, She got a girlfriend and it’s not you! What did that girl have that you don’t? Those were questions that you have been asking yourself for weeks, Questions that never left your heavy and aching mind. Before you could even register your hand went and knocked on the door, you were too hurt to even process what you did till you saw her standing in front of you, confusion written all over her face.

“Y/n what brought you here, is everything ok?” She questioned, is she blind, everything is obviously not ok. She backed away from the door to give you access, to step inside. As soon as you stepped, the memories of you both sitting on the couch cuddling, anybody that would have stepped in that moment would have thought that you are a couple, not friends. She sat on that same couch and signaled you to sit next to her, oh god how much you hated how your body reacts when she tells you to do something. You sat next to her, staring at her deep in the eyes, excitement and joy replaced with hurt and disappointment. The look in your eyes was like a dagger, stabbing her straight in the heart. How could she do that to you? How was she this selfish? Her hands immediately found your cheek, rubbing it slightly while wiping the mascara stains that were now dripping on your lap. Her touch sent shivers through your whole body, you wanted to reject that touch, reject that feeling that came with the slightest of touches, but still you can’t. Her touch was intoxicating and was like a sweet drug that you are addicted to. She moved closer to you, her body now dangerously closer. “W-what d-does s-she have t-that I don’t?” You were surprised that you actually managed to utter that sentence, her gentle touch never stopping. “Oh baby, you have everything that she doesn’t” she replied, lips only few inches away from your pair. “Then w-why? Why did you leave me and choose her?” You implored disappointment replaced with confusion. You were more than confused, what did she mean by that? Why did she leave then? “You were slowly becoming my drug, you were my weakness, and I don’t want to be weak. I tried to forget my feelings by being in a relationship but still it’s not working.” You closed your eyes knowing the truth, it was relieving but the hurt that she made you feel was there. Fuck it, your lips met hers, lord she missed you! Your smile, your laughs, your giggles, your pretty mouth moaning her name, she missed everything. She lifted you up to her lap, still not breaking the shivering kiss. She was desperate, but she couldn’t care less, she is going to fuck that hurt out of you. How could she even dare to hurt her baby? “Fuck baby, ahhh. Need you!” her palm placed on your lower back guiding you to meet the plush couch.

She quickly unbuttoned your pants and took your panties off for you, “fuck” she breathed out, the sight in front of her could literally just make her cum undone. Your dripping and slick covered pussy, begging to be touched. Her fingers found your hole stretching you out, “baby so tight on my fingers” she groaned at the way your hole was clenching on her fingers, imagining how you would be hugging her cock so tightly. She thrusted her fingers few times before taking them out and licking all the wetness that was on them while maintaining eye contact with you. You couldn’t bear this anymore, you want her dick buried deep in you. “N-Ning need y-you” you moaned out, tears of frustration in your eyes. Her cock stiffening more at the sight, she messily unzipped her pants and took her cock out. Placing it immediately at your gummy walls before pushing in completely. Your cunt was heaven on earth, how did she manage to be out of this pussy for weeks?? Her pace becoming ruthless after every thrust, pounding into you mercilessly. Making you cry in pleasure. She gave you every inch of her. She was too deep feeling her in your stomach and seeing a visible bulge on your lower belly. She placed her hand at the small tent while completely pulling out before slamming back in. Feeling that little bulge go away then come back, soon her thrusts became sloppier and the skin on skin slapping becoming louder. She started rubbing your clit, making you leave more nail marks on her clothed back. Her length started twitching uncontrollably in you, signing that she is close. “Gonna breed this fucking pussy, give you my babies.” She moaned out while her fingers never stopping, your brain too hazy to process what she was saying, just nodding to whatever she says. Soon her creamy thick seed painted your pink gummy walls, the hot feeling of being filled made you feel your climax. Being deprived from a release since weeks making your orgasm hit harder than expected. She laid on top of you, her sticky and sweat filled forehead resting on yours. Her mouth leaves a small peck on your forehead before planting a sweet kiss on your lips. You both just laid there, being in each other’s embrace. “What if your girlfriend sees us like this?” You asked, “she doesn’t care anyway, we are going to break up” she answered, brushing your hair with her hand. “I love you” you mumbled “I love you more” she pulled you into another love filled kiss.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello again! I am that Anon that requested the Reader is a Smiling Critter and blah blah, I need more and thank you for making these, my heart is filled <3

This is gonna be quite detailed, feel free to change it!

Note: This might be a lil ooc or perhaps more of an AU?? Ah yes, Dogday's legs aren't gone, still attached just for the sake of the nature of the dynamics here.

The reader is a Smiling Critter once again, they had a dream about their old friends ( ex: Smiling Critters or maybe the other toys ). After they woke up in tears, soon they decided to go around the factory in hopes of finding the mini toy versions of their old friends, something to hopefully lessen the ache in their heart. Yeah, they also forgot to tell Catnap where they went and uh the living mini toys noticed their absence and reported it to Catnap 💀

Catnap ain't happy about it, he finishes up whatever he was doing and went on to find the Reader himself ( we're special jk- ). Later, he finally found them, whatever he felt at that time came to halt as he saw the Reader sitting down on the floor, in a pile of toy versions of their old friends, HIS old friends, their old friends, silently weeping to themselves. Without a second thought, he curled up around the reader, patting their head as if to silently reassure them it'll be okay, Catnap was actually genuine about it though the reader knew that it's not that simple ( with the whole prototype and how Catnap just listens to him 💀 ). But in their sadness and loneliness, they let their guard down and sink into the giant cat's affection, feeling nostalgic as they remember they always used to do this during naptime, with THEIR old friends.

After the reader fell into a deep sleep, Catnap decided to just stay where they were even with second thoughts in his mind, in this very moment, the old Catnap is back, not the one that follows the Prototype like a lost puppy. The Catnap his old friends know, the one Dogday knows, the one Reader knows. But he snapped back to his senses, deciding to rest his head on top of the Reader's in order to shutdown all those thoughts, purring while at it. This is ALL FOR THEM, FOR JUSTICE, TO END THE MADNESS, the Prototype promised him.

.....

Dogday is silent as he listens to his " former " friend talk about the events that occured a few hours ago. Catnap has decided to visit Dogday, free him from the belts to eat the food he brought. Dogday silently took the food and ate them as he listens Catnap's talk, understandably hesitant to butt in. It was more than weird, Catnap changed so suddenly and drastically, but recently he was softer, more like the old Catnap, albeit still threatening.

" Dogday... " That made the giant dog snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing his name, his eyes met with Catnap's. Before letting out a surprised yelp as the cat pounced on him, Dogday was terrified for his fate until he felt long arms curled around him. Catnap was hugging him tightly. Read that again. Hugging him. The so-called heretic. Dogday now knows what his friend ( Reader ) felt when Catnap helps them get back to sleep.

This is the Catnap they knew, the actions speak louder than words one, he wasn't truly gone after all.

Night Befallen

Note || I cast brain rot upon ye 🤲

WC || 1,384

Sypnosis || Maybe, just maybe knowing what one can know now—your old friend isn’t entirely stolen away from you.

You had found yourself immersed in a poignant dream, revisiting cherished memories of old friends. Awaking with tears lingering on your lashes, you felt an insistent pull to embark on a heartfelt quest. Determined to reconnect with the essence of your past, you resolve to venture into the depths of the factory, in search of the miniature toy replicas of your beloved originals. With each step forward, anticipation intertwined with nostalgia, guiding your path through the echoes of your cherished history.

You just wished things had truly stayed the same, why did it all happen before–this, Hour of Joy–whatever it had been. CatNap, the same cat you came to cherish and love had been completely twisted, viewing Prototype as a god?

It just made no sense to you, everything is madness.

For now, perhaps you could absolve in finding peace with your recreational little toys, shadows of former friends they may be of course. 

“Tch-” You snorted, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in the face of your tiny little friends that are piling up around you. Just like all the old times before, the times… before. All the tiny smiling critters were just plain adorable though, so that was advantageous. 

Beyond the shadows, some creeping figures watching you took notice of your absence. No, not in CatNap’s home, nothing goes one without CatNap knowing of anything. 

A small critter skittered away, you didn’t notice—you were far in too deep to properly take recognition of anything happening, only mourning your former friends. Who knew trying to take a look at the essences of your past, a past of once where you were happy, content. You were just doing your job as a fellow critter, you loved your job. You loved being a critter, you loved your friends.

“You guys are so cute..” You smile softly, hugging them close in spite of the few stray tears streaming down your face. Normally, you’d wipe them away, but right now you just wanted to stay in the moment. 

Stay with all your old friends, even if they weren’t your real ones. 

You could be allowed the peace of illusion, atleast.

To say he was furious was an understatement, what had the tiny critter meant by your absence? 

In CatNap’s eyes, this was unacceptable. 

One should remain where they are, they are not to derail from their paths. You shouldn’t be derailing from your path. No matter the reason, he will quickly finish his patrolling, and come straight to you to put you in your place. Mostly, being stern. 

Should he allow you that courtesy? Yes, CatNap should. You are his old friend, you were so kind as to work with the Prototype (even if you were completely against it), CatNap will be lenient with you. 

Suddenly CatNap had gotten lost in thought, and lifted his paw to see what he was doing. Oh yes, he was killing a human survivor for their incompetence – that is what was happening. He repeatedly shook his paw to get the remains of the human off his claws and paw as well, the blood remained on his fur unfortunately. CatNap can find some way to clean that off later.

As if he was sighing, CatNap’s mouth emitted a large breath of Poppy Gas, something of which he used sparsely; only when he wanted to block out people from areas he didn’t want them in. CatNap admittedly felt as if what he was doing here was wrong, but it was only in the name of the Prototype. 

CatNap finally went on his way once he cleared his head of these troubling thoughts, he was going to deal with you and he wouldn’t delay it any longer.

He always had eyes all around Playcare, did you really think you could get away with this so easily? Prototype is leader, god. He would not allow anyone to defile Prototype’s name, not even you.

No matter, he was going to make this quite clear.

It seemed the small smiling critters had felt his immense aura for bloodlust, causing them to skitter away from whence he came. CatNap without a shadow of a doubt, can be terrifying. 

CatNap simply paid no mind, and continued on making his way toward you. 

Even in all the rubble and dust, one clear distinction his keen ears could pick up was reminiscent of crying. To the normal ear, one would not be able to hear this. It was so silent, was it out of a fear that you were crying so silently?

No, it was because of the smiling critters, the smaller bodies. Merely replicas, but so well done for just being copies of the original critters. Shadows always danced in CatNap’s headspace, perhaps he could make it out the same within your case. He had always crossed his heart, locking it away in soul and key. CatNap deemed it all unnecessary. Yet, with you it was recurring.

Slowly enough, whatever emotions – whatever anger he had before was fading away. CatNap was overcome with a sense of sympathy, he wanted to comfort you, his friend. Now he just came to a complete halt, trying to figure out what was wise on what to do. 

CatNap felt pitiful, sounding low when he remembered those very screams. 

You have seen just as much as he did.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, CatNap didn’t want to frighten you out of your stupor. His long elongated tail wrapped around your being, calmly re-adjusting you with a steady stance. CatNap laid down, folding his back legs and crossing his front ones. He so suddenly cuddled up against you, patting your head to reassure you silently. 

You nodded your head, snapping to the attention of CatNap’s presence. You knew otherwise that he wasn’t being as genuine, in spite of it being real in his eyes. 

Otherwise, you didn’t feel as on guard. You weren’t stressed or protesting in any case, you felt as if you were falling asleep. You began to fall asleep, CatNap sensed this, curling up against you to feel more comfortable. 

That was in your sadness and loneliness, had sleep finally claimed you – purely out of nostalgia that you had used to do this during naptime, with your old friends. 

Abornormally enough, he didn’t feel so angry. CatNap felt more as if he was at peace with you, even with these thoughts. How the Prototype had promised him justice, to end all the madness, just for you… for all of them. 

In a moment soon enough, CatNap had promptly followed you into sleep. 

If death was a choice, then he rejects it.

Silent and contemplative, DogDay listened as his "former friend" recounted the recent events, memories of comforting you when tears flowed and offering solace in the embrace of sleep. CatNap's unexpected visit and the subsequent act of liberation from his restraints were met with wary acceptance as DogDay consumed the offered sustenance, his attention captured by CatNap's unusual demeanor.

It was a peculiar sight, witnessing CatNap revert to a semblance of his former self amidst the oppressive atmosphere of their surroundings. Despite the underlying threat that lingered in CatNap's presence, there was a glimmer of familiarity in his actions, stirring a sense of unease within DogDay's battered psyche.

“This isn’t his usual behavior,” or “He’s just now had a revelation?” 

Lost in his thoughts, DogDay was abruptly pulled back to reality by the mention of his name, a sharp reminder of the precariousness of his situation. Anticipation coiled within him as CatNap lunged forward, bracing for the inevitable retribution that awaited him. Yet, to his astonishment, instead of aggression, he was enveloped in an unexpected embrace.

Stunned and bewildered, DogDay felt the weight of CatNap's arms around him, a gesture of affection that defied all expectations. In that fleeting moment of connection, DogDay experienced a revelation, a glimpse into the profound bond shared between you and CatNap, a bond forged amidst the chaos and strife of your shared existence.

As the echoes of their encounter lingered in the air, DogDay found himself grappling with newfound understanding. The warmth of CatNap's embrace, though fleeting, offered a glimpse of redemption amidst the shadows of his past transgressions. And in that moment, DogDay realized the profound impact of companionship, transcending the boundaries of fear and prejudice.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.3

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: The moment Callum and Y/n got together, and the interviews that followed...

Warning: Kissing/ allusion to sex/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 1.1k

Before they admitted their feelings, they flirted a lot. Especially on set, but today, they were filming a sad scene. It was Bucky finding Y/n character letters letter after she got captured. She didn’t tell anyone except the makeup artist, but she wrote real love letters, only changing the name. She confessed her feeling for Callum and decided to make him read these love letters as his character. But the letter that Bucky was reading was already recorded by Y/n. Tom Hanks asked her to write a love letter so he could react to one. But today, Callum was getting make up on, by the only person on set that knew… ‘’Callum, you should know that the love letter that your about to read, Y/n wrote it for you, confessing her real feelings for you’’ she whispered. The makeup artist wanted to help the two of them getting together, so that’s why she broke her silence vow. ‘’How do you know that?’’ he asked. ‘’She told me’’ she winked. Callum didn’t know how to act, but he sure was going to read every line of this letter.

‘’Action!’’ the director yelled. Callum came in the room, showing the emotion that needed to be shown. He grabbed the letter and opened it. He was nervous to read it, but he had to act.

Dear Bucky,

When we met, I couldn’t have predicted the place that you were going to have in my heart. You’ve been there for me since the beginning. I am truly thankful for you. You’re my best friend, my partner, my other half. I never told you how much I love you, more than a friend. I don’t really believe in the soulmate stuff, but you and I, I think we’re soulmate in every universe. I love you so much, it pains me to just be your friend. The sleepless night I’ve spent, thinking about you and I. You have the special ability to make me feel like the most important person on earth when I’m with you. My body aches when you’re not in a room with me, my heart hopes that you feel the same way. Because I’ve suffered enough, I want to be with you. I want you to be my tomorrow. I want to wake up next to you, and smile because my dreams are finally reality. When we’re in the same room, I feel like a 12-year-old again, waiting for my crush to look at me. You belong with me Callum Bucky. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you tomorrow.

Forever yours

Rose

He couldn’t believe what he just read. When the director said cut, he stayed seated, that letter was filled with true emotions. He had to find her, to tell her that he was feeling the same way. He got up and walked towards her trailer. Y/n heard a knock at her door, when it opened, it was Callum, with her letter in his hand. She looked at the piece of paper, then her gaze went to his eyes. ‘’Callum I, uh, someone told you? Right?’’ she whispered. He nodded. ‘’Listen I – ‘’ Callum cut her off by walking up to her. Their face was so close, Y/n tried to hold eye contact, but she was panicking. She took deep breaths, waiting for him to say anything. ‘’Y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I was afraid to ruin our friendship. I love you too, I love you so much’’ he said, smiling. Y/n blushed and put her hand of Callum’s cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb. ‘’Please, can I kiss you?’’ she asked. Callum nodded and they pressed their lips together. It was gentle, but filled with passion, a tear of joy rolled down Y/n cheek. She was finally with the men of her dreams. ‘’I wanna be yours, Callum’’ she whispered. ‘’You’re already mine, Y/n, and I’m yours’’ Callum replied, between kisses.

-

‘’It’s time to address the rumors about you two!’’ Jimmy Fallon said, taking out pictures. The first pictures were one of Y/n and Callum passionately kissing/ making out against a telephone pole. The crowd screamed, and the couple wasn’t official yet, so it was awkward. ‘’You two are clearly kissing.’’ Jimmy said, laughing. ‘’Uh, we wanted to give the paparazzi something. I mean, they followed us all night, so we wanted to give them good content’’ Y/n blurted out. It was the first thing that came to her mind. ‘’Okay, I’m not convinced, what about this one?’’ he said, switching this picture. It was Callum carrying Y/n that was in a koala position on him. ‘’She twisted her ankle, and I offered to carry her’’ Callum said. They both looked at each other, blushing and trying their best not to giggle because they knew what happened after these photos. They went back home and had sex. ‘’But your hand is on her butt’’ Jimmy argued. Callum giggled and Y/n, too. ‘’You don’t but your hand on your friend’s butt?’’ Y/n laughed. ‘’I, no I-I-I don’t’’ Jimmy stuttered. Even if the internet wasn’t convinced, at least they tried to avoid more damage.

-

They with Drew Barrymore, after the date thing, they tried to act normal. ‘’What’s your favorite Rom-Com?’’ Drew asked. ‘’The Weeding Singer’’ Callum said. ‘’10 things I hate about you’’ Y/n replied. ‘’Wait, you love The Wedding Singer’’ Drew said, with tears in her eyes. ‘’Yes, the gestures are amazing and yeah, it’s really great’’ Callum says. ‘’Yes, chasing her on the plane. Y/n what’s your favorite love gesture a man as ever done to you’’ she asked. She thought about it. ‘’Uh, I think it was when I was 17, I was feeling really sad, and this guy drove 2 hours to come and give me a hug. Or when I was 24, I really wanted a ring, it was so pretty, not as an engagement ring, just to have jewelry, and the guy bought me the ring. I still wear it today.’’ She was talking about Callum. She showed the ring to Austin and Callum, to not be suspicious and when Drew saw it, she gasped. ‘’That’s so sweet! If a man gives me a ring one day, I think I’ll cry’’ she said. ‘’I did cry’’ Y/n laughed. Callum remembered that day like it was yesterday. She drunkenly said to him that she wanted to have a ring to fidget with, when the passed in front of a jewelry store, she pointed at a ring. The next day, he went to buy the ring and gave it to her when he got home. Saying it was a promise ring of friendship. Y/n bawled her eyes out and fell more in love with Callum that day.

[its-avalon-08]

why did you leave me (cl16)

part6!

multipart story! prev || next

summary : charles and y/n have always been best friends. but y/n has been in love with him forever. when charles starts dating a new girl, out of respect y/n distances herself. but how much is too much?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

As Charles walked away from Y/N, a storm of emotions swirled inside him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, each step heavier than the last. He couldn’t shake the image of Y/N laughing with Lando, the easy camaraderie they shared. It used to be him making her laugh like that. Now, it felt like she was a stranger and he was just a spectator in her life.

He found a quiet corner in the paddock, away from prying eyes, and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. The weight of everything hit him all at once. The breakup with Camille, the absence of Y/N, the confusion and hurt of losing his best friend—it was all too much. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob, the tears coming in uncontrollable waves.

Flashbacks of better times with Y/N flooded his mind. He remembered the first time they met, how her smile had lit up the room and filled him with a boundless joy he couldn’t explain. He saw her cheering for him at his races, her face beaming with pride. He remembered their late-night talks, where they shared their dreams, fears, and everything in between. She had always been his rock, his constant in a world that was always changing.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Pierre approaching. Pierre had seen his friend’s confrontation with Y/N and followed him, worried about his state of mind.

“Charles,” Pierre said softly, kneeling beside him. “Hey, man, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Charles looked up, his vision blurred by tears. “Pierre, I... I don’t know what to do,” he choked out.

Pierre didn’t say anything. He simply wrapped his arms around Charles in a silent hug, offering the comfort his friend so desperately needed. Charles clung to him, his sobs growing louder as the emotional exhaustion took over.

Charles couldn’t stop the torrent of tears. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. Camille is gone, and Y/N… she’s gone too. She was my best friend, and now she doesn’t even want to be around me,” he choked out.

Pierre tightened his hold on Charles, offering silent support. “You haven’t lost everything, Charles. You still have us, your friends, your team. We’re here for you.”

“But it’s not the same,” Charles said, his voice breaking. “I miss her so much. She’s the only one who really understood me, who I could talk to about anything. And now, she’s just… gone.”

Pierre sighed, pulling back slightly to look at Charles. “Why do you think she pulled away?”

Charles shook his head, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. She said she thought it was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t right for me. I just… I need her, Pierre.”

Pierre looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s more to it than you realize. Sometimes people push others away because they’re scared or hurting.”

Charles frowned, the confusion deepening. “But why would she be scared? Why would she hurt?”

Pierre sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe she had feelings she didn’t know how to handle. Or maybe she thought she was protecting herself from getting hurt.”

Charles looked down, his mind racing. He couldn’t understand why Y/N would feel the need to protect herself from him. He thought about all the times he’d felt a rush of happiness just seeing her smile, the comfort of her presence, the way his heart ached in her absence.

“I just want things to go back to the way they were,” he whispered. “I miss her so much, Pierre. I don’t know how to fix this.”

Pierre tightened his embrace. “You haven’t messed anything up that can’t be fixed, Charles. You just need to talk to her. Really talk to her.”

Charles shook his head. “What if it’s too late? What if I’ve lost her for good?”

“It’s never too late to fight for the people you care for,” Pierre said firmly. “You owe it to yourself and to her to try and fix things.”

Pierre kept his arm around Charles' shoulder, sensing the need to gently push him towards a realization. “Charles, can I be honest with you about something?”

Charles nodded, wiping away the last of his tears. “Of course, Pierre. What is it?”

Pierre took a deep breath. “I’ve noticed a lot about you and Y/N over the years. The way you two look at each other, the way you’ve always been there for each other. It’s not just a normal friendship.”

Charles frowned, confused. “What do you mean? We’ve always been close, she’s my best friend.”

Pierre smiled knowingly. “Think about it, Charles. Remember the time you had that horrible crash in Monaco? You were in pain and frustrated, but the moment Y/N walked into your hospital room, your whole demeanor changed. You lit up just seeing her. And she stayed with you, holding your hand through it all.”

Charles shrugged. “That’s what best friends do, Pierre. They’re there for each other.”

Pierre continued, undeterred. “And what about the time she had that big presentation for her job? You canceled your plans just to help her prepare. You spent hours going over her notes, practicing with her. You even made her favorite dinner to calm her nerves.”

“That’s because I care about her,” Charles insisted. “I wanted her to succeed.”

Pierre sighed, realizing Charles was still not seeing the bigger picture. “And when you won your first Grand Prix? She was the first person you called, before your family, before anyone else. You wanted to share that moment with her.”

Charles shook his head, still not grasping it. “She’s always been my biggest supporter. It felt right to call her.”

Pierre leaned closer, his tone gentle but firm. “Charles, you’ve always gone above and beyond for Y/N. And she’s done the same for you. It’s more than just friendship. The way you two act around each other, the way you look at each other… it’s special.”

Charles sighed, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know, Pierre. Maybe we’re just… really good friends.”

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look. “Maybe. But just think about it, every birthday she was the one who showed up first, your eyes try and find her in every room, when you're upset you need a hug from her and everything falls into place. Your maman loves her Charlie. You could maybe write a book about the colour of her eyes."

Charles looked away, his mind racing. He couldn’t deny the connection he had with Y/N, but the idea that it could be more than friendship was something he hadn’t allowed himself to consider.

“She's my best friend. That's it,” he said quietly, his voice uncertain.

Pierre patted his back, giving him a reassuring smile. “Just think about it. And maybe talk to Y/N. You both deserve to be happy, and you deserve to have each other back.”

Charles nodded, still feeling a mix of confusion and hope. As he sat there with Pierre, he realized he had a lot to consider. But for now, he was grateful to have a friend who cared enough to help him see what he couldn’t see himself.

@hadids-world @matcha---matcha @ggaslyp1 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @timmychalametsstuff @janeh22 @ironmaiden1313 @majusialikesfastcars @sunnytkm23 @hiireadstuff @starz4me1 @f1fantasys @aundercoverosh @ohthemisssery

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them. 

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air. 

You envied them. 

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before. 

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse. 

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation. 

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it. 

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last. 

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively. 

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word. 

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether. 

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward. 

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded. 

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing. 

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you. 

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver. 

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway. 

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud. 

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went. 

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done. 

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living. 

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door. 

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no.  A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them. 

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing. 

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you. 

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not. 

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close. 

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food. 

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction. 

There was nothing. 

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james x reader 3

wc: 1384

cw: horny.

the next time you saw james was early in the morning. you were on a run, trying to get it in before the sun reached full strength and it became awful to even move, so most of your town wasn't awake yet. you ran through the streets, legs burning and lungs heaving as you focused on the good parts of the experience. the emptiness of the streets let you admire the old buildings -- maybe worse for wear but still architecturally beautiful. the smell of bread filled the air from one of the nearby bakeries, so far untouched by the stench of petrol usually pervading the main street. you waved at one of the bakers arranging the display cabinet in the window, the father of someone you went to school with.

the joy of the morning had distracted you from the pain of running, but when you reached the site of a public drink tap you realised how much your legs ached, tired pain shooting out from the knees. you'd run a bit further than you normally would have caught up in your daydreams, so you took a break for a drink and to stretch out the soreness in your legs, pulling your cap off to wipe the sweat from your brow. you glanced to your left casually, whipping your head back for a double take when you saw james in the window of the 24-hour gym, doing god knows what on a machine you didn't know the name of. you did, however, know that it was turning you on.

both your interactions with james thus far had featured him shirtless; as a lifeguard, it was bound to happen even with the mandatory red and yellow sun shirt, and james in particular seemed determined to wear it as little as possible. so, you knew he was gorgeous, with the body of a Greek god and the confidence to show it off. this somehow seemed more sensual -- how was it that sometimes wearing some clothes was more sexual than wearing nothing? james was in a muscle shirt with the arm holes cut longer to give a peek into the broad expanse of chest underneath. he was on the ergo, you remembered marlene explaining once, and the way his muscles shifted under his skin was downright sinful. you'd never understood why they were described as 'rippling' until you saw james'.

you realised with a start you were openly ogling him on the side of the main street and tore your eyes away with a start, pretending to admire a nearby tree as you felt your embarrassment catch up to you. you fanned yourself with your cap quickly, putting on a big show of taking a rest break for no one but yourself. stealing one last glance at him, glistening with sweat and looking positively unearthly, you began to run again, filing the image away for when you were alone.

you were pretty sure he hadn't seen you, thank god, but your hammering heart still matched the pounding of your feet against the pavement as you headed home. you figured if nothing else, giving you full-body goosebumps just by working out probably earned him your name, and you resolved to give it to him the next time you met.

you thought you were safe for the rest of the day since you were working a shift at the local supermarket, alas, fate had other plans. you'd been behind the counter for a few hours, well into the groove of scanning the items through and getting them into bags as fast as possible.

"hi, welcome to -- oh!" you said, meeting his hazel eyes. "james."

"nice uniform," he glanced down at your shirt, eyes catching on your silver name tag. he tried it out, seemingly content with the way it sounded from his mouth.

"you caught me." you smiled, not upset your game had come to an end.

"how do you know this girl, jamie?" the woman next to him said and you noticed her for the first time. she had to be his mother, both contextually and because they shared the same spark of trouble in their eye and lopsided smile. you raised an eyebrow in his direction: jamie. james seemed unfazed, to his credit, smiling down at his mum warmly.

"this is one of the girls i told you i met down at the pool. my first friend here." his earnestness caught you off guard again and you hated the way it warmed your heart.

"it's nice to meet you mrs, uh..."

"potter," she finished for you, "but call me effie, all of james' friends do." you smiled at her, introducing yourself politely despite the name tag rendering it superfluous.

you continued to make small talk with them as you bagged their groceries, surprised by how easy it was to talk to james and his mum. you were never really one for new people in general, growing up in a smaller town made it an unnecessary skill to develop, but you were especially bad with parents. you could hardly talk to lily's parents, and she was your closest friend. yet, with effie it felt natural, as if you'd known the both of them all your life.

you answered her questions about the town patiently, giving her recommendations about what you thought were the best restaurants and telling her about the book club your mum was part of that might be a good way for her to make friends. as the transaction came to an end effie was all gratitude, showering you with kind compliments and an invitation to visit their house whenever you pleased (much to james' chagrin, judging by his red cheeks).

"you bring these to the car, mum. i just have another question and then I'll be right out." you looked at him curiously, unsure of what couldn't wait or be said in front of effie. james watched her leave for a second before turning to you with an unnaturally innocent expression.

"you follow arsenal, right? pretty chuffed with their results this season, though I wish they could've brought it home." you opened your mouth to reply before pausing, your eyes narrowing to scrutinise him.

"how do you know i support them?" you asked, sure you hadn't brought up football in your limited interactions with him.

"you were wearing their hat, right? this morning?" he asked, and you tried to think back, oh. if you hadn't picked up on the reference, james' shit-eating grin told you all you needed to know. he'd seen you this morning. oh god, james had seen you checking him out from the street and you wanted to sink into a hole.

somewhat predictably, james didn't appear mad. in fact, he looked rather pleased with himself as you covered your face with your hands, hoping he'd just leave you to wallow in self-pity.

"you know, you could've just asked," he said casually, as if you weren't utterly embarrassed, "i would've let you watch. hell, i'll let you touch if you ask nicely." now he was teasing, and for the sake of your pride you had to come up with something in response or he'd take the upper hand and never give it back.

"i was just making sure you didn't hurt yourself, big boy." not your best, but at least it wasn't tears of shame, and james seemed amused anyhow.

"good to know you would have saved me, supergirl." he shot you a wink and you scoffed good-naturedly. you shooed him off with the excuse of his mum waiting in a hot car, but honestly, you knew you couldn't keep up the banter or staring up into his eyes for much longer without jumping his bones in the middle of the checkout line. you had a feeling your boss wouldn't take too kindly to you riding james potter on the conveyor belt, even if he was the hottest man you'd ever seen in your life.

"see you later, hot stuff!" he called, probably too loudly for the grocery store, a cheeky salute to you as he braved the heat outside.

"bye, baywatch," you muttered, praying you didn't look as flustered as you felt. you called the next customer over, greeting them politely as you tried to pretend there wasn't an aching in your core.

not sure if im convinced by james as an arsenal supporter but lmk if you have a more fitting team for him!!

[witerh]

need each other || boyfriend re4r!leon

warning: nsfw, fluff, mention of leon's ptsd, dom/soft leon! phone handjob, on distance, dirty talk, animal names, caresses, orgasm, consolation, comfort.

rating: mature

plot: your boyfriend's long absence from home makes you miss him not only mentally but also physically.

all rights reserved!| please don't copy my work without permission!| 18+ content!| minors DON'T interreact!|

Long-distance relationships, no matter what temporarily or forever, are always an unbearable longing and need. Thoughts are filled only with when he will return and worry about one rustle at home because he can will return at any moment. A couple of days, weeks and months have already been passing for too long, hours and minutes are like honey — they are slowly tormenting you with its slowness. Joy knows no bounds when you hear a notification on your phone, you hope that it’s your boyfriend, but it turns out it’s just a notification about the weather forecast. At night, hiding a pillow between your legs is simply unbearable because the desire to feel real touches is much stronger. Memories of his hands on your body, wanting to console you and calm you down from bitter tears that you don’t deserve make you sad while he consoled himself with a glass of whiskey at the bar. The atmosphere in the house just suffocates you like never before. You are used to coming home from work and smelling the cooked dinner, comforting yourself in the arms of the blond talking about your day. But now it’s deathly silence, broken by the jingle of your keys in the lock.

A stream of cool air blows into your bedroom through the slightly open window while you lie in bed and chat with Leon. The corners of your lips turn up as you can you hear his voice as if it were some kind of treasure. His words through the phone speaker feel like they are say from the heart. Admitting how much he misses you and will be back soon with a gift in the form of a new dress that you saw on Instagram makes your heart beat faster than before. You tell how things are going on with you at work and, in general, the upcoming news in your life. You haven’t seen him for a long time, you haven’t felt his comfort and the warmth for a long time which now replaces blanket. Fleeting conversations with him on the phone warm you more than any fireplace in a harsh winter that does not want to be consoled. This mission is too long for both of you and your cunt is already getting wet from his message: “How is my girl coping there alone at home, hmm?" It torments you, but at the same time it gives you pleasure like never before. Sweet torture that you are ready to endure on your own skin with defeat and hand in panties.

While talking about something new at your work, you didn’t even not right away notice how Leon was half naked and with rosy cheeks. He often worked out in the gym, because you always need to keep in shape, just as you always need to keep the bookshelves in order from dust in your house. He carefully tried and trained his muscles, so that veins almost burst under his slightly tanned skin. I can’t say that you didn’t admire his muscular body, his chest, his abs, but still it was too much. It was too beautiful a sight for your head to see his strong hands, that a pool had already formed in your mouth from your saliva. You didn’t even ask your boyfriend whether he was home from practice or not, because you still knew the answer: “Yes, I was, baby, otherwise it wouldn’t be me.”

— You think so, what if were you at home and touched me right now? Explain yourself for me. — you reproached into the speaker feeling a rather familiar knot inside your lower abdomen. The sound of your voice so alluring made him root for you even more. Leon could imagine the playful smirk on your lips as you teased him. His strong hand ran over his aching cock, which needed you more and more. Kennedy's imagination is simply clouded by excitement and he cannot think right now.

— I would lie between your thighs... and eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner... I'll make you scream my name until you forget yours... — he sighed softly lost in my imagination. About how you squeeze his skull with your plush hips, how you will cry for release while his tongue carefully works over your body, how your hands grab onto his strands of hair as if it were a sheet that was stained with your juices and his saliva. It makes his skin crawl. Leon threw his heavy head back onto the pillow, which eventually flopped from the big fantasies of your entertainment after his mission.

He will definitely make your pussy happy.

His blond hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat because it's so hot in the hotel room! With every statement and request from Leon, you felt that there was already a lake of your fluids under your ass. There is no point in resisting the temptation, and your hand is already under the lace fabric and circling over your clitoris, caressing you while you imagine that these are his fingers.

— Oh, Leon, — you mutter for him and only him — I want you... — your words were a request and a plea with heavy breathing. Your words and the sounds of your cunt squelching against your finger made the fire inside him flare up. His hand lowered his sweatpants freeing his already hard cock from its confines. Leon's movements were desperate when he heard this symphony of your sighs and sounds.

— What a good girl, — he answered, frowning from the tension in this situation. With every stroke he imagined that you were doing this to him which brought him to an uncontrollable state. Your shared muffled chorus of arousal and moans was heard only by both of you and no one else. — What do you want, baby, now?.. I will do everything I can in my power, —

Your fingers began to tremble due to the way you were squeezing them with your walls. His voice and words were stuck in your head for a couple of seconds while you thought about them while your boyfriend continued to console himself and you heard it perfectly. — Fuck me, Leon... Рlease... I need you so much.. right now, — your thighs began to tremble involuntarily — a sign that your fingers were doing their job well.

— I'm close.. very.. Oh God.. — Kennedy's slight muttering that you couldn't quite understand. Leon was quiet that there were almost no moans for you, but for him your moans were very often. His hand increased the pace of movement, smearing precum from the red tip with his thumb. You both lost your breath and the approach only increased without stopping for mercy. The tension in the lower abdomen tormented him greatly, as did you, constantly reminding him of the long-awaited release. With each passing moment, the intensity of your pleasure grew until it became almost unbearable. It's too much.

— Cum for me, baby, be a good girl for me... — he coos and his voice was hoarse with his desire and need for you. You succumbed to temptation with a hoarse cry, feeling like a knot was untying in the lower abdomen and your pussy ached and ached while your hips stood up slightly in trembling. You are lost and your mouth is dry and there is not enough saliva while your body is all wet from sweat and your own fluids, not to mention the sheet under you and now dirty pajamas. You could only hear his moans and low growls of his release with your encouragement. Thick strings of sperm released into his palm also staining his clothes and his skin.

You both walked away and breathed heavily without saying anything. — You liked it baby, huh? — his murmur was heard with the slight rustling of a napkin as he removed dirt from himself. Kennedy wanted to hear your approval or to hear what he did wrong in this unusual meeting on the phone. — This is not just “good”, it is ideal and only ideal, — you quietly whispered back.