#second row left didn’t happen this month but it was posted this month for his bday so idc it will get included

[formulafanfics13]

Not His Toy - LH44 🔥

masterlist

The latest article used a photo of her laughing. Not even a scandalous one, no kiss, no hand-holding, no drunk stumbles or exposed thighs, just her, caught mid-laugh outside a hotel lobby in Monaco, hair up, sunglasses low, wearing one of Lewis’s oversized shirts and sipping iced coffee like she didn’t know she was already a headline.

“Lewis Hamilton’s new toy?” “Mystery woman spotted with F1’s most eligible bachelor — is this just another fling?” “Hamilton seen leaving the same hotel three mornings in a row… playboy strikes again?”

She scrolled with trembling fingers, heart somewhere between rage and hollowness, her stomach curdling as each word sunk deeper. The captions weren’t even creative anymore. Just recycled poison. Same format, same misogyny, same faceless media voice pinning her down like she was a silhouette, no name, no past, no personality. Just a body in his orbit. A toy to be picked up, played with, discarded.

And Lewis said nothing. No denial, no confirmation. No soft photos posted on his story. No subtle caption to hint that she was anything more than a placeholder in his penthouse. Not even a fucking like. She was drowning in the silence.

The bedroom was dim, golden hour painting the walls in soft peach light. One of his jumpers hung off her body, loose and low enough to make her feel naked. The smell of his cologne lingered on the collar, a quiet, cruel reminder of the last time he’d kissed her neck from behind and whispered, "You smell like mine." It had felt so real then. So fucking real. Now it felt like a lie stretched across her skin.

She heard the shower shut off. Water off. Silence. His bare feet padding down the hallway. Her heart slammed harder. She stood up. Swallowed the scream in her throat and told herself this is the moment. The only way she could claw herself back from the humiliation. If he wouldn’t love her out loud, she wouldn’t let him love her at all.

The bathroom door opened. Lewis stepped out wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, steam curling around him like smoke. His skin glowed warm from the heat, muscles slick, chest rising slow with every breath. His locs were wet and pulled back loosely, a few strands sticking to his temples. He looked perfect. Devastating. Familiar.

She could barely look at him.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, eyes lighting up when he saw her standing there. “Did you-?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He blinked.

“I can’t do this,” she repeated, slower this time. Her voice cracked and she hated it. “Not like this.”

Lewis didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His entire expression shifted, the softness gone, replaced with something tense, guarded, unreadable. He stepped forward one pace, towel still clinging to his hips, steam still drifting off his skin. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t,” he said, though his jaw was tightening by the second.

She swallowed hard. Her fingers clenched into fists. “I’m not your toy, Lewis.”

He flinched.

“I’m not your secret. I’m not some girl you can sneak around with and pretend doesn’t exist the second you step in front of a mic. I’m not some blurry tabloid extra that they get to name however they want because you won’t.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed something heavy. His eyes never left hers.

“Do you know what it feels like,” she whispered, “to wake up every morning and see my face under a headline calling me your ‘latest fling’? Do you have any idea how fucking humiliating it is to have people send me screenshots with laughing emojis? To get DMs saying I’m just your phase-of-the-month, and that when you're done with me, someone prettier will take my place? And you just… let it happen.”

“Stop,” he said sharply, low and cold.

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to tell me to stop when you never fucking started. You never corrected them. You never said my name. You never posted a single photo. You keep me in this, this limbo where we sleep in the same bed and say I love you in the dark, but I don’t exist in the light.”

“I’ve never said I love you in the dark,” he growled. “I said it like I meant it.”

She blinked, stunned by the venom in his voice. He took another step toward her. She backed away, like instinct, like survival.

“Don’t twist this,” he said, voice rough and rising. “Don’t twist the silence into something it’s not. You think I don’t love you because I haven’t made it official on Instagram? You think this isn’t real because I didn’t post a fucking selfie?”

“I think it’s not real because you never told the world I was yours,” she said, hollow, eyes burning. “You let them think I’m just another girl you’re fucking.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From them.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” she asked, voice breaking again. “Why didn’t you ever just tell me?”

His mouth opened, and for the first time in years, Lewis Hamilton had no answer. That was the worst part. Not the silence. Not the media. Not even the comments. It was him not fighting for her in this moment. Not begging. Not fixing. Just… nothing.

She bent to grab her bag from the floor. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her spine stiffened. She looked up. He was in front of her now, fast, chest heaving.

“Move,” she said, her voice shaking.

He didn’t.

“Lewis-”

“Say it again,” he rasped, dark eyes locking with hers. “Say you’re leaving me.”

“I am.”

A pause. Then chaos. His hands were on her like a storm. Fast, rough, claiming. One at her jaw, tilting her face to him. The other wrapping around her waist, dragging her back into him like he’d die if she took another step away. “You have no idea what you mean to me,” he breathed. “You think I let them say that shit about you because I don’t care? I let them say it because if they knew who you really were, they’d destroy you.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, lip trembling. “I’d rather be destroyed than feel invisible.”

He looked like she’d punched him in the chest. “Don’t ever say that again,” he said, and his voice was wrecked now, not angry, not cold, just broken. “Don’t ever say you’d rather be destroyed than be safe with me. I’m trying to keep you alive in this fucking world.”

“I don’t want to be kept,” she said. “I want to be loved.”

Then he snapped. He kissed her like he was furious with her mouth. Like it had betrayed him. Like it was the last place he could be safe. Tongue and teeth, breath hot, hands shaking. She melted and fought at the same time, pushing at his shoulders even as her body betrayed her and kissed him back with everything she had.

“You want the truth?” he growled, mouth dragging down her throat. “I’ve wanted to go public since the day you fell asleep in my hoodie. But I’ve watched every girlfriend I’ve ever had get doxxed. Hunted. Threatened. People went after their families. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought hiding you was love.”

She whimpered as he grabbed the hem of the hoodie and yanked it over her head.

“But it wasn’t love,” he whispered. “It was fear. And I’m not fucking afraid anymore.”

He shoved her onto the bed, towel gone, his body flush against hers before she could speak. When he entered her, it was raw, desperate, unfiltered. No protection. No patience. Just a man trying to carve himself into the one thing he couldn’t lose.

She sobbed out his name, fingers gripping his shoulders as he slammed into her over and over again, each thrust brutal and wild and laced with everything he’d never said. “I love you,” he whispered, over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She broke. Came undone around him. Tears streaked her cheeks. He chased her over the edge and came with a sound that was pure surrender, collapsing into her arms like he’d finally found peace. Minutes later, still trembling, he reached for his phone. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice small. He didn’t answer. Just pulled up Instagram, found the photo of her sleeping on his chest, her face half-hidden in his t-shirt, one hand curled around his neck.

He typed: "She’s not a mystery. She’s my home."

Then posted it. No filter. No warning. He turned the phone so she could see it. “Now let them fucking try me.”

[dozybeez]

Spin For Me (Pt. One)

She’s the quiet girl in class with a secret life after dark. He’s the campus heartthrob who’s used to getting what he wants—except her. When a class project forces them together, buried truths, blurred lines, and undeniable tension threaten to unravel everything they thought they knew.

→ part two

pairing: college au! kim mingyu x exotic dancer f!reader

word count: 2.3k

content warnings: slowish burn, eventual smut, lap dances, adult club setting, derogatory language toward sex workers, internalized shame, emotional distress, subtle? size and innocence kink. MDNI

authors note: in no way do I think I’m a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.

songs for this chapter:

- Change (In the House of Flies) by Deftones

- Robbers by The 1975

- That Funny Feeling by Phoebe Bridgers

The lecture hall smelled faintly of dry-erase markers and cheap coffee. It buzzed with that mid-semester kind of tired—hoodies tugged over faces, headphones in, eyes on the clock instead of the slides.

You weren’t invisible.

Not in the way people usually meant it.

You were seen—just misread. Easily boxed in, easily ignored. In lecture halls filled with raised hands and loud, overconfident voices, you were the person in the back row with your hood pulled over your ears, black flats tapping lightly against the floor while you took neat, quiet notes.

No one looked twice. And if they did, it was only to borrow a pen.

Which was exactly how you liked it.

Until Kim Mingyu walked into class ten minutes late.

The door swung open like he owned the place. Sunglasses perched on his nose despite the cloudy forecast and a white tee stretched across his chest like it was tailored just to show off how broad and well-built he was. That half-grin had made him the most followed student on campus—15K and counting. He had a height that forced anyone to lean around him just to see the board whenever he was in a row in front of them. He gave the professor a lazy nod and ignored the dozen girls who immediately perked up in their seats as he dropped into the chair beside you like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t already trying to disappear.

You didn’t look at him. Not really. But you felt him look at you.

“Group project presentations,” Professor Norris announced, clapping once to pull focus. “Partners are posted. No trades. Don’t ask. You have three months.”

Your stomach sank before you even looked.

A rustle of movement. Groans. Whispers about how unlucky they were not to be matched with Mingyu.

You flipped open your laptop to check the pairing list and whose name resided in the spot next to yours.

Kim, Mingyu

No.

No no no.

You felt him turn toward you the second he saw the same list. You couldn’t even process how he was able to match your name to your face, never having interacted with the campus heartthrob before.

“Looks like it’s you and me,” he said, smiling wide like it was good news.

You didn’t return it. “Great.”

No giggle. No flip of your hair. No “Oh my God, I totally follow you on Insta!” like the girl in front of you had said during the last class lecture. You just stared back at your laptop like you weren’t next to the most popular guy on campus. Like you hadn’t seen his face on flyers, tagged in party pics, or shirtless in more thirst traps than you could count.

Something in your tone made his smile falter—just for a second. But then he laughed like you were kidding, like you couldn’t possibly mean it.

“You free after class?” he asked. “We can talk through a game plan.”

You closed your laptop slowly. “I have work.”

“Okay, then maybe—”

“I’ll email you.”

And with that, you stood, shoved your laptop into your tote, and slipped out the side exit before the rest of the room even processed the assignment.

⸻

Mingyu stared at the empty seat you’d left behind.

It wasn’t that people didn’t say no to him. It happened. Sometimes.

But they didn’t say it like that.

Like they’d already decided who he was.

He scratched the back of his neck, still watching the door you’d walked out of.

⸻

The library study rooms on the second floor were always just a little too warm.

Mingyu tugged his sweatshirt over his head and dropped it onto the empty chair across from him. Underneath, his designer top showed his shoulders too well. He wasn’t trying to show off—well, not really—but he also wasn’t apologizing for it either.

You walked in exactly two minutes late. Oversized black hoodie, hair up in a messy claw clip. Your flats were silent on the tile. You didn’t look at him as you sat down.

You pulled out a worn spiral notebook instead of a laptop. Mingyu blinked. “Going analog?”

“It doesn’t die on me.”

He opened his laptop. “Fair.”

Silence. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.

“So, uh… should we just start with the topic?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were flipping through the first few pages of your notebook, all neat handwriting and annotated margins. When you finally glanced at him, it was like you’d only just remembered he was there.

“I already picked one,” you said. “You can veto it if you want.”

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “Taking charge, huh?”

You stared.

He threw his hands up. “No complaints. What is it?”

“Emotional repression and memory retention.”

Mingyu blinked. “That’s… intense.”

You shrugged. “It’s Psych 3023.”

“I was thinking something lighter. Like social media attachment.”

“You mean influencers?”

He grinned. “You say that like it’s a dirty word.”

You didn’t grin back. “Isn’t it?”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh. You were sharper than you looked. He wasn’t used to that. Most people talked to him like he was a golden retriever with a ring light. But you? You looked at him like he was a pop-up ad you didn’t remember clicking on.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll go with yours.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I’m flexible.”

You narrowed your eyes. He noticed—again—how big they were. Soft, doe-like. You blinked twice and looked away, like you were annoyed you’d been caught looking at him at all.

“Fine,” you muttered, uncapping your pen. “We’ll split the research. Half each. Meet again Friday?”

“Works for me,” he said, folding his arms behind his head. “Your place or mine?”

You looked at him flatly.

“Or the library,” he clarified with a grin.

“You’re not funny.”

“I kinda am.”

You stood before he could finish the thought, already packing your things. “Friday. Four. Don’t be late.”

He watched you walk out again. Same way you had in class—fast, focused, like you couldn’t wait to get away from him.

Mingyu let out a low breath.

He was used to people liking him right away.

But you?

You didn’t just not like him—you looked at him like he was a disappointment you’d already predicted.

And for some reason… that made him want to try harder.

⸻

You had two hours before your shift started. Enough time to switch.

Your dorm room was small and cluttered—textbooks in one corner, a makeup bag you rarely touched sitting unopened on the dresser.

The two-piece was already laid out on your bed. Pale pink, almost childish, with a satin ribbon tying across the back of the top. It looked like it belonged to someone with gum in their mouth and sparkles in their hair.

You pulled it on in silence.

You tied the ribbon. Adjusted the straps. Then you sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the mirror while you tied your notorious soft satin half-mask with little black lace trim.

You blinked slowly at the person staring back.

Fawn blinked back.

⸻

At Club Indigo, Fawn didn’t have to speak unless she wanted to. The lighting was dark—deep cherry reds and pools of purple. You took your time stretching backstage, your body moving to the low pulse of the music already spilling out from the main room.

Your name was on the lineup—third from the top.

You didn’t strip. Never had. You didn’t even give private dances. That was the rule. That was how Fawn stayed safe while working in your college town. Mentally and physically.

You danced.

And when the first notes of Deftones’ “Change (In the House of Flies)” echoed through the room, you stepped onto the stage, barefoot with light delicate steps, and climbed the pole.

Above the noise and lights and breathless stares, you finally felt in control.

⸻

The library smelled like burnt coffee and printer paper. You were already regretting agreeing to this study session.

Not because of the material—but because Mingyu had an undeniable way of drawing attention just by existing.

The tall ones always did.. and the ones that had faces like Kim Mingyu.

He sauntered into your corner of the library a couple minutes late, hoodie bunched at his elbow, still somehow managing to look like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. His laptop was tucked under one arm, headphones tangled in his fingers, and two girls from across the room immediately perked up when they saw him.

You pretended not to notice.

He spotted you and smiled, bright and lazy. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, collapsing into the seat beside you. “Had to walk a friend to class.”

You nodded without looking up. “We’re already behind on the lit review.”

“Always so serious,” he muttered, pulling out his charger.

Another girl drifted by your table—a blonde in a tennis skirt who paused, leaned down, and touched Mingyu’s shoulder like she had every right to.

“Hey, you still coming Friday?”

You didn’t look up.

Mingyu glanced at you briefly before answering. “Probably not. Got a thing.”

“A thing?” The girl smiled, tilting her head. “You ditching me again?”

He laughed, low and polite. “Work. Group project.”

She blinked down at you like she hadn’t noticed you until just now. “Oh.”

You just kept typing.

“Good luck then,” the girl said after a moment, her smile fading, before walking away.

Mingyu sighed and leaned closer. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“The plague of being stupidly charming.”

You shot him a deadpan look.

He grinned. “Kidding.”

You didn’t smile, but you also didn’t tell him to shut up. Small victories.

⸻

That night, you sat curled up at your desk, the glow of your laptop the only light in the room.

You’d just finished editing a short pole routine—a slow, eerie clip to “Robbers” by The 1975. Your grip was clean. Your spins, effortless.

You wore a mask in the video, just like always. Your hair swayed over your bare shoulders like curtains.

You uploaded it to your Tumblr. Two hundred thousand followers. Dozens of reblogs in seconds.

You closed the tab before the notes could start piling up.

This part of your life—your secret Tumblr, the masked Fawn, the quiet kind of fame—none of it existed outside of your laptop.

You went to bed in an oversized T-shirt and socks, not checking your phone.

⸻

The study session was, miraculously, productive.

At least until you hit a new section, and you leaned forward to help explain the concept to Mingyu, only to realize Mingyu’s arm was stretched across the back of your chair.

He wasn’t touching you. Not really. But he was close—close enough to be noticeable. He wasn’t even looking at you, just staring at the screen, listening with his brow furrowed like he was genuinely trying.

Still. You scooted half an inch away.

“You always do that?” he asked after a while.

“Do what?”

“Lean away whenever I move.”

You blinked. “I don’t.”

“You just did.”

“I just—” You paused, frowning. “You’re tall. You take up space.”

He smiled. “So it’s a spatial issue.”

“Yes.”

“Got it.”

A pause.

Then, under his breath, he added, “Wouldn’t have pegged you for someone so easily flustered.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re pink.”

You shut your laptop a little too hard. “We’re done for today.”

⸻

Back in your room that night, you pulled your laptop into your lap, opened a private browser tab, and typed in your Tumblr handle.

Your latest video had almost 60,000 notes. Just you, in your usual black ruffle set, spinning slowly on the pole in a dim-lit studio. The mask covered most of your face, and your hair was down, hiding the rest.

Nothing overtly sexual. Just movement. Art. Mood.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then closed the screen.

⸻

Mingyu liked the campus café in the morning because no one expected him to talk.

He kept his sunglasses on and his hood up as he leaned over the counter. “Two sugars, no cream.”

The barista nodded—she already knew.

He’d barely sat down when the bell above the door jingled again.

You.

You were in your usual morning armor—giant hoodie (navy this time), jeans cuffed at the ankle, and mary janes. A spiral-bound book was hugged to your chest like a shield. You didn’t look around. You didn’t see him.

He almost didn’t say anything.

But then again… almost wasn’t really his style.

“You stalking me?” he asked casually as you approached the counter.

You flinched. Just slightly. Then rolled your eyes. “God, do you live here?”

“Only when I’m hungover or avoiding the gym.”

You ordered tea—no milk, no sugar—paid in exact change, then turned and caught him still watching you.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t peg you as a tea person.”

“And I didn’t peg you as a person who reads.”

Mingyu clutched his chest like you’d shot him. “Ouch.”

A flicker of amusement crossed your face. It was tiny—barely there—but it was the first time he’d seen something that wasn’t a wall.

He tapped the empty chair across from him. “Come on. Sit. We’re supposed to be friends now.”

“We’re not.”

“Okay. Co-researchers?”

You hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” he added. “I won’t ask about your tragic backstory.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you sat.

You sipped in silence for a while. Outside, campus was already coming alive—groups of girls in tennis skirts, someone skating by with a speaker, a guy on a bike nearly running into a recycling bin. The usual.

Mingyu noticed your eyes flick to a group of laughing students by the window. You looked at them like they were a movie you’d already seen too many times.

“You don’t hang out much, huh?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t like noise.”

“That’s probably why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You just don’t like me.”

You met his eyes then. “You’re loud. And everyone’s always looking at you.”

He tilted his head. “And that’s bad because…?”

“It’s not bad,” you said slowly. “It’s just… everything you do seems like it’s for show.”

That caught him off guard.

You went on before he could respond. “You know how some people walk into a room and it feels like they’re trying to win something?”

Mingyu blinked. “You think I’m trying too hard?”

“I think you’re used to being liked,” you said simply. “And when you’re not, it bugs you.”

You picked up your tea and took a sip, calm as ever.

Mingyu just stared. He wasn’t used to being read like that. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

But he was sure of one thing: you saw through people like glass.

And now he was dying to know what else you’d see if you actually looked.

⸻

[yourmidnightlover]

control

(forever? pt 2)

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x fem!reader (arranged marriage)

summary: after a rough night with bucky, you wake up alone and get some frustrating news from your beloved husband

warnings: reader is insecure/doubts, not eating for 24 hours (out of protest), kind of controlling bucky, violence, if i missed anything, please let me know!

w/c: 2.7k+

a/n: hiii! this is the second part that was in high demand after i posted forever? i hope y'all like it! this has been sitting in my drafts for what feels like forever and i finally have had a chance to share it with you all! i hope it's worth the wait :)

part 3 -> the story

you woke up alone, just like every morning in the past two months with the exception of the smell of his cologne only a whisper on your bedsheets. 

maybe you shouldnt have expected anything else from him. he had just felt bad about what happened, about making you cry, that’s all. he couldn’t have you running out on the deal that was made. he just had to save face. it was all business…

there was another knock on the door. two days in a row, which was rather surprising. 

opening the door, you come face to face with bucky’s right hand man, steve. his kind blue eyes shone with a hint of remorse, likely knowing at least a bit of what happened last night from his boss.

“hi,” you smiled, your hand remaining on the doorknob.

“hey,” his eyes examined your face, probably to report back to bucky on how you were doing. as if he couldn’t check on you himself. “are you hungry?”

you turn around to look at the clock that reads 12:30.

“i didn’t realize how late it was,” you shook your head as he chuckled. 

“you probably needed the rest after…” he inhaled a sharp breath. “anyway, bucky wants you to head up to the office. told me to make sure you ate too.”

why couldn’t he show you how caring he was?

maybe that’s why he left so early… because he had stuff in the office to take care of. that was what your mind would assume to save your own ego, at least. 

he took you by a mom and pop diner around the corner from their office, let you eat as many waffles and pieces of bacon as your heart desired until he discreetly paid the bill and then you made your way to the office to meet with your husband. 

stopping outside his door, you heard his voice ringing angry and raging. 

“i said to find him. i don’t care if you have to work all day and night to do it. i’m gonna find out where he is. nobody touches what’s mine and gets away with it.”

was he talking about you? or was he talking about another one of his many possessions or assets. either way, with the tone he was talking about everything, even if he was talking about you, he made it seem as though you were merely an object that was in his trophy case. if he was looking for john in order to reprimand him, it was likely to send a message to everyone else that dared look at him. to ensure they didn’t see him as weak.

he would never do anything for you out of the kindness of his heart, surely.

“do whatever needs to be done. end of discussion.” you heard a dial tone end, followed by steve knocking on the door. 

“glad you made it safely,” bucky nodded towards steve before glancing at your form tucked behind him. “how’re you feelin’?” you shrugged. 

“fine, i guess.”

“thank you, steve,” seemingly dismissing steve, he left the room promptly. “i wanted to talk with you about something.” you remained quiet; he sighed before continuing. “i’ve made some arrangements to get you your own personal bodyguard, for when i’m not around to ensure your safety. they would be ‘round the clock unless approved otherwise or when i’m available to be around you.”

“so i would be watched 24/7?” you finally piped up. “like a child?” you voice was still meek as you mentioned your objection.

“it’s for your safety.” he stepped closer to you, not missing the way your body tensed at the movement. “so that something like what happened last night doesn’t happen again,” his jaw tensed, seemingly at the mention of what happened. 

so someone doesn’t touch his precious trophy again, you thought to yourself. 

“i’m a grown woman. i barely even leave the house, and you think i need more surveillance?” your brows furrowed together as you shrunk into yourself, your shoulders deflating at the thought of losing even more of yourself to this marriage. 

“it happened at our house,” bucky reminded you.

“it happened with you right around the corner, too. y’might as well have a drone following me around at that point,” you scoffed quietly. “what? next i won’t be able to shower by myself.”

“if that’s what it takes to ensure your safety, then that’s what’ll happen.” there was no playfulness or sarcasm in his tone.

“i was joking, you can’t be serious,” you looked at him, feeling stubborn tears beginning to well in your eyes. 

“deadly,” he assured you, his brows raised and his serious tone piercing your heart. “whatever it takes.”

you shook your head as you turned to the door. “no.”

your hand reached the doorknob before he added, “i was running this by you as a courtesy. not to get your permission.”

you froze in your steps, turning to him with a questioning look. a couple tears finally broke free from the dam before you responded, “then what was the point?” with that, you walked out of his office, turning to steve. “is it you?” after seeing the tears streaking your face, the choked sobs leaving your throat, he looked to the ground in defeat. you had your answer. and bucky had your freedom in his hand. 

you really were just a device for him at this point. you play the part of a loving, devoted wife while he probably does whatever he pleases to maintain his image to the public. 

you understood that their businesses were in the public eye and that the news of a finance business being absorbed how it was would draw a lot of attention, but nothing made sense right now. he was being so serious about it all. 24/7 surveillance, a fucking bodyguard… for a finance business merge. it was disheartening, to say the least.

it’s not like you had a say in the matter, anyway. so, steve escorted you safely from the premises back to your gated house, where you locked yourself in your room for the rest of the night. 

you didn’t open the door when he tried to ask what you wanted for dinner, or when he tried to give you a sandwich. 

you didn’t even open the door when bucky tried to knock himself once he got home at 11p.m.

or in the morning when they tried to give you breakfast.

or at noon when steve insisted on lunch.

“it’s been almost 24 hours since you’ve eaten,” steve sighed from the other side of the door as you sat at your desk, pen doodling meaningless lines in your notebook as you stared at the blank word document. “bucky’s not gonna be happy if he finds out you haven’t been eating or talking or… anything. you know i have to tell him.”

and you stayed quiet. 

if he wanted a polite little trophy wife, he would get one. but last time trophy wives were a thing was in the 40s, and they weren’t really allowed to say much, so you figured you’d follow suit. 

kind of like your own version of a peaceful protest. 

apparently bucky wasn’t very happy about that. 

he showed up knocking on your door not 20 minutes after steve tried to insist on lunch again. at least he wasn’t busting the door down, much to your surprise.

“it’s bucky, but i’m sure you’ve figured that out,” his voice rang with a certain softness he had with you only two nights ago. “i told steve to go for a little walk so i could talk with you. i was hoping you’d maybe respond?” he tried to open the door, finding it remained locked. “sweetheart, please just eat something. you haven’t even had water since yesterday. you know you have to drink something.” 

you suppose it would look pretty bad for him if his dear wife went to the hospital for dehydration, or starvation for that matter. has the bucky barnes been treating his wife as less than? or has he simply forgotten about his wife? perhaps she’s a weak point for him? 

although he probably wouldn’t admit you to the hospital, he’d probably hire someone to come to the house themselves, sworn to secrecy of some sort. 

you heard rustling on the other side of the door, not footsteps, more like clothing being rustled followed by a thump. his voice rang out lower on the door when he spoke, “i know you’re not happy about having a bodyguard. i understand, i do. you think your freedom is being tarnished and threatened and this is you trying to control what little you can because of that.”

how can he act like he knows you so well? the man who made it seem as though the marriage would be at least a partnership before the words ‘i do’ were uttered. after the honeymoon a flip must’ve been switched in his brain, telling him you were a little toy for him rather than the partner you had agreed to be.

but, after plenty of time to think, you’ve come to realize that you were being rather selfish. as much as you wanted your freedom. you wanted to stick it to the man and tell him that you deserved respect, because you did. 

you also had a duty to your family, to keep them safe. being in this marriage was the only way to do that. and if any questions arose, like bucky’s care for you, then your family would be in danger. 

with a click, you unlocked the door. he must’ve heard it because he slowly opened the door and took a step inside your room, a few feet from you.

“i’m sorry,” you looked at the collar of his suit rather than his eyes. “i’ve been acting rash and immature. i apologize for that.”

“i didn’t-”

“i won’t question your authority again,” you were picking at your nails. “i understand that you need steve to make sure nobody harms me to maintain your image. i respect that. i respect your decision.”

you couldn’t bare to look at his face. your gaze shifted to the floor as he began to nod. 

“does that mean you’ll eat something?” you nodded, chewing on your lower lip before responding. 

“i’m sorry for taking time away from your business,” you moved the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ears, doing anything you could to distract yourself. “i now how valuable your time is.”

“you’re more valuable than all the time i have,” he took a step closer to you before you felt his index finger and thumb gently holding your chin, nudging your head up to look him in the face. “do you understand?” his blue eyes were full of emotion, a mix of them, at that. if you squinted it was almost like there were tears building at the corners of his eyes. but you weren’t squinting anymore. you saw the full picture quite clearly with your eyes wide open. 

“i understand,” you nodded curtly.

you did understand.

you understood that he had an image to maintain. that image, for you and your family, was for him to be a devoted, loving husband to his equally loving and devoted wife. 

his image is his reputation, and no money in the world could buy the reputation he has. 

he let go of your chin, cupping the sides of your face before he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, “i brought your favorite with me. steve’s warmed it up in the microwave for when you’re ready for it. just… eat whatever you can. if you’re still hungry i’d gladly go and grab some more for you.”

“aren’t you going back to the office?” you, voluntarily this time, looked into his eyes with furrowed brows. 

“no, my love,” he shook his head before dropping his hands from your face. “i told them i needed to spend the rest of the day with my wife.”

of course. if steve knew about last night, people at the office probably did too. it would look pretty lousy if he didn’t look after his wife after an incident like that. 

“oh,” you nodded as you broke eye contact once more. “that sounds nice.”

you followed him downstairs, where steve had already set your food aside for you to start on. not eating for so long truly did affect you more than you thought. you didn’t even realize how hungry you were, finishing the entire meal in less than 15 minutes. 

bucky was sitting beside you, eating his own food as he made sure you ate and drank, and noticed when you made a happy plate, and cup, might he happily add. 

“wanna go get some more now?” he let his hand float to your hair, raking through your messy locks with a smile growing at the corner of his lips. 

“no, that’s okay,” you shook your head, not wawnting to bother him more than necessary. 

“if you’re still hungry, then that’s not okay,” you looked to see him shaking his head, his eyes fixed on the dining room table. “c’mon,” he stood from the table, holding his hand out for you to take. “we’re going to get s’more food.”

“will we be going alone?” you let your eyes gravitate to where steve stood in the corner of the room, having not been dismissed by bucky yet. 

“steve,” bucky called him over. “you can go home now. i’ve got her. thank you.” he released him from his duties. “now will you come with me?”

you took a second to think. maybe he was a controlling asshole, but what he was doing was for your safety, whether you agreed with it or not. “okay,” you nodded, figuring it was also best you went along with whatever he said. he seemed to get whatever he wanted anyways. “can we just go through a drive through somewhere?”

“if that’s what you want…” he nodded, surprisingly agreeing to your proposal. “where to?”

“... mcdonalds?” you suggested once more.

“of course, my love,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, oddly affectionate since nobody was around. “when we get back i’ll arrange hiring a chef for you, as well. i won’t have you going hungry if i can help it.”

“you don’t have to-”

“i will.” 

you knew better than to argue. you wouldn’t poke the bear if you could help it. sure, he’s told you he wouldn’t hurt you. you were his wife and if news came out that he had hurt his wife in any way, his reputation would be threatened. 

you couldn’t help but remember every warning your friends told you about going into a relationship with this man. warnings about being on your toes, watching your back, never letting your guard down. 

in your mind, this was just one more reason you wouldn’t have to leave the house. another little piece of freedom taken from you in a roundabout sense. 

“okay,” you nodded, accepting your fate as someone who would eventually be trapped in their house forever.

he took you through the drive through at mcdonald’s, getting you whatever you wanted and an oreo mcflurry. on the way home, eating the mcflurry before it melted, it was a silent ride. and not a very comfortable one, probably due to your suspicions about him wanting to control you. 

maybe him controlling you wouldn’t be so bad… he was kind to you, provided for you, made sure you didn’t want for anything. but with that, went a lot of your heart, freedom, and control.  

TAGS:

@nefri-black

[machveil]

Today’s thought:

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas (except for our marriage that part is very much coming home with us) scenario:

Idk, just thinking about the various guys going out to party in Vegas (maybe after a lengthy job being successful, maybe a birthday or something) only to wake up married (like actually legally binding married, not just a joke wedding officiated by Elvis) to the person they’ve been eyeing for a while now, not having the slightest idea what happened the previous night.

-🐸

Also I saw that art, I need yall to know I almost shrieked in the middle of the very quiet lab I work in.

[post writing note: so many words… very sleepy now] oh, you know I have to include Horangi in a Vegas fic🎲ヽ(´▽`)/🃏✨

Vegas Wedding Bells

what’s the worse that can happen after celebrating in Vegas? going back to spend your honeymoon at base? Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin CW: fem!reader, getting married while intoxicated, suggestive

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

the dull ache in his head was the first thing he noticed as he woke up, bright beams of light aggravating a headache as he groans. the body tucked against him was the second thing he noticed, bare skin warmed by bare skin. that caught his attention

when Johnny decided Simon - the birthday boy - needed to loosen up for his special day he scoffed, “‘M turnin’ thirty-two, Soap. I don’t do birthday parties.”. he thought that all the way to America, grumbling when the team boarded the plane. his two saving graces were getting an aisle seat and sitting next to you

“Ghost, it’s not that bad.”, you chuckle, watching as he crosses his arms - for a man that large and intimidating, he was acting like a pouting child. “Could be havin’ a beer at the pub.”, he remarks, eyebrows knit as someone’s carry-on bumps his shoulder, “Soap’s lucky I ‘aven’t wrung his neck.”

the flight itself wasn’t so bad, no crying children or loud snoring. by the time the flight landed at Harry Reid it was dark out, Johnny dragging everyone towards the hotel. you barely had time to shower and change before you were wrangled out to a casino. “Soap, m’not gamblin’.”, Simon huffed, looming next to the Scot as they passed row after row of slot machines

Simon held true to his word - he didn’t gamble. he got shitfaced

the night went by in slow motion, bleary eyes and drunken laughter ringing throughout the group. Simon didn’t know when it happened - when he got separated from the group, when he took your hand in his and left the building. he didn’t remember whisking you away to the nearest church - a real church, he didn’t remember gruffly asking for someone to officiate the sudden ceremony. he definitely didn’t remember shaking down some poor stranger on the street to be your witness, “Gotta— we gotta ‘ave someone watch… yeah? I’ll uh— I’ll grab someone, lovie.”

but, as you moved in his arms, the glint of a pretty little gem on your finger had his eyes widening. moving slowly, trying not to wake you, he lifts he own hand - a gold band snug against his ring finger. it’s not like you weren’t close to Simon, quite the opposite

he’d been meaning to ask you out for a few months, never quite working up the nerve to. now? he’s cussing himself out in his head - married before the first date, drunken vows. your back is to his chest, arms cradling a pillow as you sleep. it’s only when you yawn and shift in his arms does he completely freeze, your tired eyes looking up at him

it doesn’t help when you snuggle up to him, eyes closing as you tuck yourself against his chest. heart hammering, he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it. at a loss for words, his gaze travels back to his ring adorned finger - fuck, would you be pissed when you realize? he’s liked you for so long and he blows it by marrying you in Vegas?

“Simon?”, you murmur, turning in his arms, chest to chest - still skin to skin, “What time is it?”, a groan leaving your throat as the sun peaks out from behind his hotel room’s curtains. he can’t bring himself to look down, your bare chest to his. when he tries to shift back a little, aiming to sit up, does he realize a third thing - when had he taken off his mask?

dirty blonde, close-cropped hair messy against his pillow. scarred skin bare for your view. nervous brown eyes looking down at your sleepy form

he doesn’t know what to say, too much information being realized all at once. it doesn’t help when you hum softly, rubbing the corner of your eye, soft-spoken words leaving your lips - his cheeks heating up and hands a little sweaty at your words

“S’not nice to ignore the missus, Simon.”, you say, voice raspy with exhaustion

John “Soap” MacTavish:

it was a short deployment, but it had TF141 scrambling to stay alive - practically a week in hell. a hail of gunfire on Tuesday, a close call Wednesday, the group getting separated for two days. it was a miracle that everyone made it back in one piece with just scrapes and bruises

it was a mumbled joke - you didn’t think it would be taken seriously, “We’re lucky as hell, should take a trip to Vegas, huh?”. despite the aching muscles the group sustained, bumps and bruises, you were swept away to an airport. it was too early for this, but it was too late to back out - Price and his need to get to the airport at four in the morning

“S’not that bad, bonnie.”, Johnny shrugged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he tucked you against his side. between Johnny and Kyle’s chipper mood, Simon’s grumbling, and Price double checking passports and tickets, you were content to just go along, “Soap, I love you, but it’s too early for this.”

he laughed, a little too loud for the early morning crowd - you didn’t catch the way his cheeks heated up though. “Lighten up, mo ghaol.”, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips when he heard you confusingly mutter, “Mo ghaol?”, under your breath. he’d tell you what that meant in the future

the flight itself was fine, Johnny sat behind you. he made it a little game - passing notes up to you from between the chairs, giving the back of your seat a nudge every once in a while. when he passed out halfway through the flight you caught a couple hours of peace… if you could ignore his snoring

by the time the plane landed and everyone was settling down in the hotel, Johnny was raring to go. quick knocks on your door followed by him calling your name - a little too loud for this time of night

Kyle was busy unpacking while Simon and Price had retired to bed - poor John, all alone and left to his own devices. he already had a plan, taking your hand in his and dragging you out of the hotel. a fun night of bar hopping and getting tipsy, his treat

Johnny was confused when he woke up in a hotel room - definitely not the one either of you checked into with the group— wait, what’re you doing wedged against his side? he tried to sit up, the sharp pain in his temple making him stop. how much did he drink? he was at a bar with you, then he blinked and woke up here

bringing his hand up to rub his face, Johnny pauses when he feels cool metal touch his cheek. pulling his hand back a little, his eyebrows shoot up when he sees the ring on his finger - freezing when he remembers— oh no

he’s sitting up quickly, the pain in his head be damned. looking down at you, oh, you looked so peaceful, his breath hitches. there on your cute little ring finger, a matching gold band with a pretty little gemstone. “Ah— shit.”, he mumbles, mind a little fuzzy as snippets of the night come to the forefront of his mind

married - legally wed at the church around the corner. some dingy little say-the-vows wedding house wouldn’t do for you. Johnny, sweeping you both off in a drunken stupor, insisted that you deserved a real, good old fashioned church wedding… not before swinging into a jewelry shop

sloppy vows and dopey smiles exchanged, he was carrying you out the door. never made it back to the hotel Price booked - he couldn’t remember which way it was. instead, Johnny booked an overpriced honeymoon suite somewhere else - champagne bottle cracked open as he kissed your cheek

and now he’s looking down at you as you stir, tired eyes blinking open. it’s not like he regrets marrying you - he would love to marry you, he just wish he had gotten to the dating bit first. there was an awkward silence as you slowly took in the scene - Johnny, his shirt tossed somewhere in a forgotten corner, seated next to you in bed. an unfamiliar, albeit light, weight to your ring finger

when you finally meet his gaze, his grins - a slight, nervous glint in his eyes as you sit up too. “Ah— we— I mean, didnae think that—“, he coughs, stumbling over his words, trying to find something to say. married to one of his closest friends in Vegas of all places, he’s wracking his brain for a coherent sentence - eyes wide when you look down at your newly gilded finger

“Jumping the gun on getting married, huh?”, you smile, voice sleepy as you glance up at him. pausing, your eyebrows knit slightly as you glance around, “Where exactly are we, John?”

König:

König, for all his cockiness and bravado on duty as a Colonel, was less than thrilled to be flying to Vegas. was he proud of his teammates on their latest deployment? of course, did he want to be crammed in a small airplane seat with no leg room? absolutely not

being flown in and out of deployments is one thing, fitting himself in a seat meant for someone half his size was another. sniper hood replaced with a black medical mask and baseball cap, he was putting up with the flight for his friends - and you. was he going to spend money in Vegas? not if he could help it, “Nein, gambling is a waste of money. You can lose your own savings, Horangi.”, he scoffed, turning down the offer to bet when they landed

instead, König spent a majority of the night in a booth with you - drinking and watching your fellow teammates lose money. it wasn’t long before the multiple fruity cocktails got to König, a large hand on the small of your back as he ushered you outside the casino

the pounding in his head woke him up, throat dry and eyes bleary. the last thing he remembered was laughing with you on the streets of Vegas. as he moved to shift, to tug the covers up and hide against his pillow, he paused - registering the small hand on his chest, the warmth tucked against his side

swallowing, he glances down. he nearly chokes on his spit when he sees you sleeping against him, wedged between his body and the covers. headache suddenly forgotten, his mind swirls with different thoughts - had he slept with you? had you clung to him all night? are you going to be disgusted with him when you wake up? did you always have that ring on your finger—

wait. oh no

gaze glued to the ring on your finger - beautiful gem snug on the band - König’s mind suddenly goes blank. when he raises his own hand only to see a matching ring all those questions flood back as his chest tightens

surely you both hadn’t drank that much. he can barely remember leaving the casino though, he doesn’t remember whisking you away to a church - saying slurred vows and promises to each other. what’s worse? you weren’t together to begin with

sure, König has been pining for you, yearning to call you his and vice versa. to be married now? there’s butterflies in his stomach, but his chest is tight with anxiety. you were close colleagues, closer friends, and he carried you back to the hotel as his bride? you were going to kill him when you woke up, he was sure

when you mumbled something he froze, muscles tense as you hugged him closer. “Mm, König?”, sleepy voice coated with raspiness, it feels like the wind got knocked out of him, “König?”. his eyes darted down to meet yours, hands shaky as they clutch the sheets

“Ah— ja, Maus?”, voice strained, he awkwardly glances away. when he feels you cuddle up to his side, a small peck placed to his chest, he’s sure he’s died - or maybe he’s still asleep, blacked out from the booze. “You’re so warm.”, your voice, small and sweet, has him dizzy before he realizes what you’ve said

dead silent, he can’t help the flustered feeling in his heart, cheeks heating up. maybe everything can be normal? sure, you’re married, but— but what if you just ignored that? yeah, maybe König won’t lose you when you fully realize what’s happened… probably not, but the thought is nice

it’s a few minutes before you speak again, he’s sure the silence is comfortable for you - he’s overthinking what’s happened, what happens next, what happens on the flight back, what happens—

“Can’t wait to wake up every day like this.”, you sleepily murmur. it has König’s mind going silent - every day? you wanted to wake up with him every day—

Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin:

he really shouldn’t gamble. he’s shit at it, he doesn’t want to risk owing more than he can pay, but damnit! it’s Las Vegas - how can he not gamble? the city was practically made for him. lights, dice, cards, cash? like a moth to the flame, can you blame Horangi when he drags you there for his birthday?

sure, he’s been to the States before, but Sin City? he’s never had a reason to go to Nevada, but a weekend get away to celebrate? now that’s an excuse to call and bluff. it was a little hard to get everyone onboard with the idea - as much as the team enjoyed a poker night, flying to Vegas to lose money was definitely… eyebrow raising. but, when it’s for a birthday, they can suck it up and play along

the night went by quick, a mixture of card games and drinking as the group paraded behind Horangi, letting him lead them from table to table. at some point they stopped at a bar, liquor flowing and shots passed out - Horangi could hardly move when he woke up. the hangover that hit him was devastating, an uncomfortable ache behind his temple

grumbling curses as light peaked out from behind the curtains, Horangi found himself unable to move - someone wrapped snugly around him, an arm and leg draped over his body. he didn’t remember hooking up with anyone last night, then again, he didn’t remember a lot after the bar. so, when he looked down and saw you? his heart nearly stopped

“Mavsosa—“, voice strained as he freezes, his eyes flutter shut. you’re warm against him, pleasantly so, but he can’t help the guilt gnawing at his heart. did something happen? how did you two end up in his room?

but, light still streaming in from a crack in the curtains, when he opens his eyes he catches a glimmer on your ring finger. time slows down for him as he swallows - a pretty gold band with a cute little gem. when he eyes his own hand time starts flowing again, heart drumming in his chest. talk about a birthday present, he woke up with a wife

he would have been delighted to wake up as your boyfriend - maybe a tipsy confession after a shot of liquid courage, but waking up as your husband? it has his stomach twisting with nerves, but he can’t help the boyish smile that settles on his face. it seems like a silly joke, waking up wed to you

mind fuzzy as he recalls the chapel he ushered you into, hand in hand with goofy smiles, it didn’t seem too bad in the moment. while he might not be great at gambling, his charisma let him sweet talk the pastor into officiating - not his proudest moment in hindsight

and when you cling to him as you wake up, hand smoothing down his chest, he glances at you. you’ve been solid friends since he started serving, everyone knows that if you’re somewhere the other isn’t far behind. and he loves you, he really does, he just didn’t expect to see that ring on you, shiny band twinkling with the morning light

”Morning, dangsin.”, he quietly says, hoping you’ll be just as happy - maybe a little caught off guard - as him. it’s a gamble, his deep voice dripping with affection as he runs his hand through your hair, “Sleep well?”

charismatic man - while he tends to have terrible luck gambling, winning you over was easier than breathing, “Mhm, s’this our honeymoon, Kim?”, you mumble, eyeing the ring on his hand

[vettelsvee]

getaway car with Oscar and Lando? works in any way I guess but sounds awesome

GETAWAY CAR | Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

⋆ PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Ex Lando's girlfriend Female!Reader x Lando Norris ⋆ SUMMARY: After having a relationship with his teammate, and having broken up with him after many years dating, you just need Oscar as a getaway car. ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words, using Oscar to make Lando jealous (poor baby, sorry) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2530 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Two days in a row posting fics 🥳 Also, writing this has currently me thinking a lot about Oscar's and Lando's plots for City of Stars AU 😭 Hope you like this and, if so, please tell me your thoughts, talking to me and rebloging! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You didn’t want to think about Lando Norris anymore.

You didn’t want to think about how he used to look at you after every race, how he would search for you in the crowd while wiping the sweat dripping from his forehead, longing to hold you and tell you just how much he wanted you.

You didn’t want to think about the jokes he used to make whenever he had the chance. Or the way he told you how much he loved you, how much he wanted a life with you, and how he desired a couple of kids running around in a few years.

And, of course, you didn’t want to think about how all those dreams shattered, along with your heart, the day you both decided to go your separate ways.

You never planned on using Oscar Piastri. It just… happened.

After breaking up with Lando, your life became a constant reminder that those years together hadn’t been a figment of your imagination. The media wouldn’t stop mentioning you, reminding him that you existed, and your presence in the McLaren garage remained evident, even if you were now nothing more than a ghost.

Oscar, with his quiet, composed demeanor, knew you weren’t doing well. You had never paid him much attention, but he had noticed you. The Australian had joined McLaren when your relationship with Lando was already crumbling, so you hadn’t been focused on anything other than trying to salvage what was left of it.

Back then, he was just another driver in the paddock, your boyfriend’s newest teammate, just that.. But now, he had unwittingly become the perfect centerpiece for your plan… though perhaps, it wasn’t much of a plan at all.

Oscar Piastri was the perfect getaway car.

The first time you took his hand in public was at a McLaren party after the Monaco Grand Prix. Oscar had finished second, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him. Over the past few months, he had gravitated toward you, though you weren’t sure if it was out of pity or the hope that something real could come out of your unexpected bond.

Lando was across the room, laughing too loudly as he kept alternating his touch between the arms and waist of a model you were certain couldn’t even count to ten.

Your stomach twisted at how quickly he seemed to have moved on.

Oscar remained beside you, sipping timidly from his drink. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was also fixed on Lando and that slender blonde you couldn’t help but envy.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His body tensed, and he quickly turned to face you.

“What are you doing?”

“Just play along, trust me.”

You felt his fingers tremble slightly, and for a moment, you feared he would pull away, leave you standing there, humiliated, in front of your ex, who was now looking at you with mild surprise… and, to your satisfaction, a faint smirk.

But Oscar didn’t let go.

The warmth of his hand stayed with yours, and as the minutes passed, he held on more firmly, more confidently.

That was when Lando’s laughter faded. His eyes met yours, and the confidence, the smug assurance he had displayed while entertaining that model, while pretending to be unbothered, vanished entirely. In its place, doubt crept in. A need for answers formed in his mind.

Perfect. That was exactly what you wanted.

And so, from that night on, it became a sort of routine between you and Oscar.

At first, you hesitated, but soon enough, you started showing up with Oscar on race weekends, always staying close to him. You’d reach for his hand, lean into him just enough for your arms to brush. You’d look at him more than necessary, and whenever the cameras found you during a race, you made sure to exaggerate your support for the man everyone assumed was secretly your new boyfriend.

When you knew Lando was watching, you made the game even more dangerous. You laughed louder with Oscar, touched his arm while doing so, hugged him, leaned in close enough for the world to believe your chemistry was undeniable, perhaps even stronger than what you once had with Lando.

Of course, the media caught on quickly, and soon, the headlines started rolling in.

“Oscar Piastri & Y/N spotted together in Monaco, leaving the Aussie’s house… New couple coming soon?”

“Formula 1’s McLaren’s golden boy in trouble: Lando Norris’ ex finds comfort in his teammate.”

Lando hadn’t spoken to you in weeks. You knew from social media and the whispers in the paddock that he was more than fed up with the situation you had created with his teammate.

Oscar, however, had begun to realize that maybe… there was something more going on. That maybe, for you at least, this wasn’t just about getting to know each other.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

His voice was quieter than usual. He had grabbed your arm before you could step into the McLaren hospitality, leading you to the back, where he knew no one would see you.

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. You already knew where this conversation was going. You had tried to avoid raising Oscar’s suspicions, but you had been so focused on getting back at Lando, on proving that you had moved on effortlessly, that you hadn’t realized how out of hand things were getting.

“About what?” you shot back, sharper than intended.

“You know what.” His jaw tightened. He looked away for a second, shaking his head before meeting your gaze again. “What exactly are we doing?”

“God, Oscar, we’re just having fun,” you forced a smile.

“Are we having fun, or are you having fun?” He frowned. There was a pause, long enough for a tight knot of guilt to form in your chest. “Because from where I stand, it feels like you’re just using me as a distraction to make Lando…”

“Does it even matter to you?” you interrupted him.

He didn't say anything else, but he didn’t need to. His gaze dropped, startled. Tiny glimmers of what seemed to be impending tears surfaced in his eyes.

But it was his reaction—how quickly he left—that left you standing there, alone. Unable to say anything else. Unable to apologize. And, most of all, unaware that, that night, Oscar would cry over a girl for the first time. Unaware that you had set something in motion you didn’t even consider had a real beginning.

Despite Oscar's best efforts to build a wall between you, and despite your attempts not to see him as an escape, you both continued the same pattern… until the British Grand Prix arrived.

The first raindrops started falling just as you scanned your accreditation at the paddock entrance. You followed Oscar, walking beside him, even as he was absorbed by a group of fans eager for pictures. Not just them, but also Formula 1 cameras and a handful of journalists began turning their attention toward the two of you, flashing lights and throwing questions that had nothing to do with Oscar’s thoughts on qualifying.

The walk to the McLaren garage was mostly silent. You exchanged the occasional meaningless remark, both knowing the weight of silence was enough to make the tension unbearable. Enough to make pretending everything was fine feel impossible.

And as if things weren’t uncomfortable enough, Lando was standing at the garage entrance, arms crossed, as though he’d been waiting for you.

The sight of him made you stop abruptly, instinctively tightening your grip on Oscar’s arm. But Oscar didn’t even flinch. He simply kept walking, indifferent to the fact that you had frozen in place.

Lando’s gaze shifted between the two of you. First, at you, standing there, unsure of how to step inside without Oscar’s support. Then, at Oscar, who had just set his backpack down, close enough to keep looking at you, deliberately ignoring his teammate.

“I see it didn’t take you long to replace me.”

Lando’s words were cold. Sharp. They struck deeper than you wanted to admit.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Once again, a familiar tightness wrapped around your chest, the weight of your own choices pressing down on you.

“Maybe I finally found someone good enough for me.”

Oscar stiffened beside you at your response.

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, sure.” Then, turning to Oscar, he added: “Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, mate.”

“Lando, I think you’re misunderstanding—”

“So you two are still at it, huh?” your ex cut you off, stepping closer. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Y/N. Tell me you’re not serious.”

Your heart kept hammering, but you refused to let Lando be right, even though you knew he was.

Not because you wanted to hide the obvious truth, but because you didn’t want to hurt Oscar.

Though maybe… you should have thought about that before playing such a dangerous game.

“Why does this even matter to you, Lando?” you finally shot back.

His lips parted slightly, as if caught completely off guard by your question.

“It doesn’t. At all. Trust me.” He said it too quickly. “I just think it’s funny how you’re acting like some spoiled fifteen-year-old throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get her way.”

Oscar shifted beside you, tense, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie like it was some sort of shield. He still hadn’t spoken, and you doubted he even wanted to. But you could feel it, his body language shifting.

For the first time, Oscar wasn’t going to play along.

“Look, mate, I get it,” Lando continued, voice dripping with mockery. “She’s… fuck, she’s gorgeous, and personality-wise. She’s a fucking solid ten, I won’t lie.”

His words made you feel sick. And if it weren’t for Oscar gripping your hand, silently keeping you in place, you would have walked away.

“But this? She needs a rebound, Osc. And you’re the easiest option for that. Hell, probably the best way to get back at me.”

The air was knocked right out of your lungs.

Oscar tensed even more, if that was even possible. His breathing, which had been steady until now, turned shallow. Uneven.

“Lando, stop—” you pleaded, your stomach twisting painfully.

“Don’t do this,” Oscar cut in, voice quiet but razor-sharp.

Lando arched a brow. “Do what?”

“Talk about her like that. Talk about… us like that.” Oscar kept his tone measured, but you knew he was barely holding himself together.

“Tell him, babe.”

The ground beneath you felt like it was crumbling. Your vision blurred. Your lungs burned for air.

And even though you desperately wanted this to be over, you also wished you could just sink into a deep sleep and never wake up.

You knew this moment was inevitable, that you’d have to face the truth eventually.

You just never thought it would happen like this.

Not with the two men who, in some way or another, had been a part of your life.

“Come on, babe. Just say it.” Lando kept pushing, calling you the same way he used to call you and clearly enjoying your suffering, as well as Oscar’s growing desperation. “Tell him that this whole show you’re putting on, both in public and in private, is all a lie.”

Your eyes flickered between your ex-boyfriend and the boy who never quite became one. You opened your mouth, but the words refused to come out.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Oscar’s statement, laced with sarcasm and a humorless chuckle as he shook his head, left you frozen.

“So it was just to make me jealous, huh?”

Lando’s once-taunting tone had softened into something almost melodic, as if he were pleased to have caught you red-handed playing with his teammate, who now looked utterly defeated.

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to say something, anything, to fix the damage you had seemingly done to both of them. But the only thing you managed to offer was silence, long enough to confirm everything.

You turned to Oscar, desperation creeping into your voice.

“Oscar, this wasn’t—”

But he was already stepping away from you.

His expression was unreadable. His eyes… God, his eyes carried a pain so sharp it made you want to disappear on the spot.

“So that’s all I was to you… a getaway car," he said, his words slow and deliberate.

It wasn’t a question. It was the confirmation of suspicions that no longer needed proving.

“Oscar, I…” You shook your head, taking a step forward.

Oscar didn’t move further away, but he didn’t let you close the distance either. He didn’t let you take his hands, though that was your intention.

“I already knew,” he admitted quietly, as if saying it out loud could somehow take it all back. “I knew you were using me to try and get back with Lando, or… hell, I don’t even know anymore.” He exhaled, glancing away for a moment before locking eyes with you again. “And yet, if I’m being completely honest, I thought that maybe… just maybe… things between us would change. That you’d come to love me even half as much as you once loved Lando.”

A lump formed in your throat.

“Osc, I never meant—”

“But you did it anyway,” he cut you off. It stung that there was no anger in his words, only that familiar kindness of his, the one that had slowly become your favorite melody. And now, you knew you had lost it forever. “From the very start, you wanted to use me. You just never thought I’d catch on.”

You felt yourself shatter from the inside out.

“Oscar…”

“You know what’s even worse? I would’ve gone along with it. I would’ve faked a relationship with you if you had at least been honest with me about it.”

Lando remained silent, watching intently.

You had been so focused on making him jealous, on proving to yourself that you were fine, better than ever, that you hadn’t even stopped to consider the collateral damage.

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding slowly as if convincing himself, as if accepting that this was truly the end.

“See you around, Y/N.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the garage, stepping into the rain.

And yet, you were the one who felt drenched, empty, and above all, alone. Dirty.

Lando was still there.

For the first time since your breakup, he wasn’t smiling with that infuriating, carefree grin. The very one that had pushed you to start using Oscar in the first place.

There was no mockery in his expression now. No satisfaction. He simply looked at you with quiet expectation, as if waiting for you to say something, to accuse him of something.

“You really fucked everything up,” he said softly. “I hope you realize you’ve hurt Oscar far more than I ever hurt you when we decided to break up. If I remember correctly, by mutual agreement.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You did know. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[heartbreakangelcake]

So I posted this before but accidentally deleted…

I’m writing a fanfic (Clarisse La Rue x Reader) on wattpad

It’s called Heart unfrozen and the user is Raspberryshortcake44

Here is some of chapter one!! If you like it check out the rest on wattpad. I’ve written three chapters and I’m planning on writing another.

Chapter one:

My heart was pounding, and my breath was ice-cold—each inhale stung like frost in the back of my throat. I felt disoriented and dizzy. Very, very dizzy—like I had somehow managed to overcome gravity and I was floating above the very ice. This couldn’t be real. Maybe I had passed out and dreamt the whole thing.

But no, I was here and this moment was very, very real.

Lifting my head, blinking back the tears of passion which threatened to spill, I met the gaze of the hundreds of people who had come to watch me perform. Technically, they were here for all the skaters, sure. But let’s be real—I was the main event.

I deserved to be.

After hours and hours of 4 a.m. alarms, bruised hips, sprained ankles, months of physiotherapy, saying no to every party invite, missing birthdays, holidays, every normal teenage thing, and being pushed to my physical and mental limits—this was all that was left: glory.

And I was planning to bask in every drop of it.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, like a dam had broken and they’d all been holding their breath with me. I blinked again, overwhelmed. Some people were even throwing things onto the ice. Teddy bears? That was new. I beamed and waved up at them, doing my best to look graceful—like I hadn’t just nearly vomited from nerves ten minutes ago.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her.

She didn’t look like your typical figure skating fan. No puffy jacket, no glittery posters, no soft smile or misty eyes. She actually looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. She had thick, curly hair that fell in dark coils around her shoulders and a chiseled, tan face. She was beautiful in an intimidating way, like an old Greek statue. She looked like the kind of girl people would go to war over.

Her dark brown eyes were locked on me. Watching my every move. Not smiling. Not clapping. Just watching.

When she caught me staring back, she scowled.

Seriously?

Whatever.

I bent down and picked up one of the smaller stuffed toys someone had tossed my way. A little girl, maybe six or seven, had thrown it from the second row—wide eyes, two messy braids, and a toothy grin. The toy was pink, wore a tutu, and even had little hand-knitted ice skates sewn onto its feet. Handmade, probably. My heart swelled a little. How sweet.

I looked back up and saw the girl pointing excitedly, bouncing in place, whispering something to her mom like I was famous.

That’s the part I never got used to. The way kids looked at me like I was more than human. It made me feel good of course, it would to anyone.

Skating over to the exit, I slipped on my hard guards, the clack of plastic against ice jolting me a little. My coach, David, met me with my warm-up jacket, helping me cover up my now slightly purple-tinged skin. The thin blue dress I wore—sleeveless, sparkly, freezing—didn’t do much to keep out the cold now that the adrenaline was fading.

“How do you think my program went?” I asked, pretending to be casual. “Do you think I could get first?”

David raised an eyebrow at me, always unreadable. He loved playing it down.

“I’m optimistic,” he said eventually. “Your spins were perfect and your edges were clean. But there are still four more skaters. Anything could happen.”

Optimistic. I smirked. That was basically a glowing review coming from him. I’d seen him call perfect routines “fine” just to keep his skaters humble. He had this whole ‘cooler than you’ persona going on. I didn’t really mind, though. It just meant his compliments meant so much more.

We walked toward the waiting area together. My legs still trembled a little beneath me, not quite sure if they were supposed to be performing or collapsing. I saw a big coach ahead of me. Collapsing it was.

The waiting room was small, warm, with cozy lighting and the soft hum of a heater. A sofa sat in front of a mounted TV where the scoreboard flickered gently. It was calm and peaceful and exactly what I needed.

We sat down and my nerves ratcheted up another level. My fingers drummed on my knee. David frowned at me; he didn’t like my nervous habits. I couldn’t really help it though. I was always sort of hyper aware of everything. I called it spidey sense. Dad called it ADHD.

The current first-place skater had a total of 183 points. She’d earned 116 in her free skate. That was a solid score. It wouldn’t be easy to beat. But I had scored a 68 in my short program—higher than her. I felt it in my frozen bones: my free skate had gone better than any rehearsal. I had done everything right, now it was all up to the judges.

I needed first if I wanted to qualify for nationals. It was everything. And then—there it was.

The screen changed. My score appeared in bold, white letters:

Junior Women’s Figure Skating

Florence Monroe – 189.80 points

I was first.

My throat tightened. I turned to David, eyes wide. “David, I won.”

He was grinning, but still tried to keep up his usual cautious front.

“Let’s just wait a little longer. It’s not over yet.”

I nodded, pretending to stay calm. My hands were shaking. If I kept my position on the scoreboard it would mean I could go to nationals. If I won Nationals…

I stopped myself from getting too hopeful.

“I’m going to the toilet. Watch the rest of the programs and call me if there’s a threat.”

I grabbed my skate bag and walked off, the corridor colder than I remembered. My jacket was doing very little at this point, and I curled my arms around myself for warmth. I pulled out my phone and dialed my dad. He picked up on the third ring.

“Dad, I think I’m going to win!”

“Are you serious?! That’s amazing, Flo—I knew you could do it.”

I beamed. Compliments always meant a lot, but coming from my dad? They hit different. He was my hero. He raised me on his own, drove me to every competition, scraped money together for coaching and gear. He believed in me before I ever had believed in myself, telling me I had something special. That I was something special.

“I just wish I could be there with you to celebrate,” he sighed.

“Oh, Dad, come on. I’ll see you in no time. And besides, I don’t even know I’m getting first. There are still four more skaters.”

“Alright,” he said. “But we both know you’ll win. How many points did you get?”

“Well, in the short program I scor—”

I stopped.

There she was again.

She’d moved seats. Now she was in the hallway. Near me.

Still watching.

Still frowning.

My pulse picked up again. It was subtle, but immediate. My body reacted before I had time to tell it not to.

Why? Why was she here, and why did she keep looking at me? Had I offended her somehow? Did she know me? Did she think I was arrogant? Was she another skater’s sister? A rival? A stalker? Was she going to kidnap me and put me in the boot of her car so I could never see the light of day again?

Okay, no. Calm down.

“Hang on, Dad, I’ll call you back.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I hung up and walked quickly toward the bathrooms. I wasn’t sure what this girl wanted, but there was no way she’d follow me in. Right?

I locked myself in a stall and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. My legs bounced with leftover nerves. I pulled out my phone and texted Lisa, my best friend. She was a skater too, but she hadn’t made it to this comp.

Me: Weird girl staring at me, maybe following me, what do I do?

Lisa: Relax Flo, she’s probably just a fan. Maybe a little awkward and doesn’t know how to approach you.

Me: You're right. I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic. Maybe I should go talk to her. I’ll take a selfie with her if she wants.

I stared at my reflection in the metal toilet paper holder. My previously perfect winged eyeliner had now smudged slightly from sweat. My lips were dry and my rose lipstick was peeling off. My cheeks still flushed with heat. I looked like someone who’d just skated her life out. Hopefully no one could see that on camera.

I splashed cold water on my face at the sink, giving up on any hope of looking put together. I took a few deep breaths, and pushed open the bathroom door. Showtime.

But she was gone.

Vanished. Like she’d never been there.

I guess there would be no selfie.

My phone buzzed.

David: Flo, you should come back. Last girl’s on the ice. No one’s beaten your score… but she just did three triples.

Three triples? Crap.

I had done three, but that's what had gotten me my score. If any of her components were better than mine she would win.

I took off running, the hallway a blur. My skate bag thudded against my hip with every step. It didn’t really matter whether I was there to witness my downfall or not, but I had always had this thing about control. Maybe I could talk the judges out of giving her more points than me. Sure it would be immoral, but I really needed this win. Plus, everyone always said I have a way with words.

I rounded a corner, nearly slipping on the polished floor—

And then bam.

I slammed into someone. Hard.

I went down like a sack of bricks, the wind knocked out of me.

God this was embarrassing. I really hoped there were no filming fans around. I couldn’t bear to watch that in a youtube compilation.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I said automatically, trying to get up, but everything froze.

I looked up—and forgot how to breathe.

It was her.

She was towering over me. Muscles. Jawline. Presence.

She took two steps forward, closing the space between us with unnerving calm.

She looked down at me. Her expression unreadable.

Then she raised an eyebrow. “So you're Florence huh. Hm… We have some talking to do.”

[glassprism]

Hi! I was wondering if you know the history of the Broadway Star Princess dress and why it’s so different to London’s version? I saw your post saying it was originally from Vegas, but didn’t Sarah Brightman also wear the Broadway version at one point?

So first, I think you might be a bit confused about the wording in my last post. I never said the Star Princess costume itself was from Vegas. I said that the specific photo of the specific Star Princess that I linked was from Vegas. That specific costume was created there and then later sent to Broadway, one of many, many other Star Princess costumes among their stock. The Vegas production opened in 2006, years after the Broadway production opened in 1988, so they certainly did not design and come up with that costume. Rather the Vegas production created their own specific variant of it (albeit one still very close to the Broadway design), and when the Vegas production closed, that costume was sent to the still-running Broadway production to be used there. I hope that clarifies!

On to the history, which might also answer the second part of your question. The first thing to note is that the Star Princess was not the original dress Christine wore in 'Masquerade'. That dress was the fondly nicknamed "Hershey's kiss" dress, which looked like this:

Supposedly the dress was not very popular with the Christine actresses, so when the show went to Broadway, it was redesigned into the Star Princess dress we know today. That's also why you see Sarah Brightman wearing both - she wore the "Hershey's kiss" dress on the West End and the Star Princess on Broadway.

After a few months, the West End production also adopted the Star Princess costume, and has used it to this day. Now, you did ask why the West End and Broadway versions differ. Well, in fact, in the early days the Star Princess did not differ that much at all between the two flagship productions, as you can see below - West End on the left, Broadway on the right. There's differences, sure, but they're nowhere near as striking as it is now - you have the dark blue ruffles along the chest that continue into the sleeves, rows of beading along those ruffs, light shades, nice transition from darker pink to light, very similar shape and styling of the bodice, and so on.

So why did it change? Well, same reason every costume in every production worldwide has slight changes from each other: different costume makers, different materials, different interpretation of the design. Especially when Maria Bjornson died, I feel like the West End production started getting more experimental. Meanwhile, Broadway was more traditional, so their costumes adhered closer to the original style as the West End struck out for new avenues. So it's actually kind of funny that you ask about the history of the Broadway Star Princess, like that's the one that chose to be different, when the reality is the opposite - you should look at the history of the West End Star Princess and see what happened there.

To demonstrate, I made a little transition photoset below. The top row is West End, bottom row is Broadway, and the photos go chronologically from left to right, starting from the early 90s and ending with the West End revival and Broadway re-opening in the 2020s.

Hopefully you can (squint and) see what I mean there. Looking at the bottom row, you can see that the Broadway production certainly makes some changes here and there, but the overall design has remained largely the same from when it began in 1988: dark blue ruffles that continue from chest to arms, silvery beading, soft shades of pink, a bell-like skirt shape.

Meanwhile in the top row, the West End production has undergone a lot of changes, but hopefully you can also see that it's not exactly a jarring shift from one to the next. Rather, it seems like they're taking each previous iteration and just making it more extreme. The previous dress was a little brighter in color? Well now we're going to make them even bolder. Arm ruffles the size of pool floaties? Well now we're going to make them the size of your head. Simplifying the bodice beading? Well now we're going to take away entire rows of them. And so on.

And hopefully what that teaches you is how changes gather and snowball over time, how a little shift can lead to another shift, and another, and another, until you look back and realize that what seemed like a minor change at the time has been magnified over the years to become a much larger one.

(Also thank you to @operafantomet and her wonderful blog of photos, many of which I took for this post.)

[alonelystargazer]

WIP Wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a while but I'm working on a few projects behind the scenes (albeit very slowly), so I want to share a little bit of what I have so far.

for JJK:

Chapter 2 of my ItaFushi fic: give you more (than words can say)

He follows Nobara around, browsing the various video and crane games set up in the five-story building, going up the escalator to the second floor where they find rows and rows of gachapon machines set up. Since he’s here, he may as well indulge and try his luck. “Look, there it is! Okay, I have ¥2850 left, so I’m gonna keep spending it until I get that damn figure. You,” Nobara points to Megumi, “are you gonna stand there again like an idiot like you did earlier?” Megumi decides to keep the peace and ignore being called an ‘idiot’ again. “I’ve got enough cash to buy out this whole machine, but I don’t really care what I get.” “Did you guys forget I’m here, too?” Yuuji whines with a frown like a sad wet kitten. “You didn’t even wanna come here in the first place. Just pick a machine or stand there quietly and let us play,” Nobara barks back. “You’re usually not this mean, but you’re extra cranky today, Kugisaki,” Yuuji sighs, half of his body’s strength seemingly disappearing as he slumps against a nearby wall.

I also have another idea for an itfs fic set in a no powers AU but I'll share more about it when I start writing the story. For now, I'm still in the outlining process because I plan for it to be another multi-chapter story. Basically, it's set around Christmas time, and Yuujij gets drunk and sad and lonely at a party and decides to write a post card to the address where he used to live, and surprise, a guy named Megumi now lives there and receives the card. Can you imagine what will happen next?

I thought of restructuring my post-canon itfs fic called Foreign Language into something else, but that depends on these final 3 chapters of JJK, so we'll see how it goes, but for now, I'm leaving it alone.

~

for Kagurabachi:

pre-Rakuzaichi Hakuri character study/HakuHiro fic called Safety Net

Tomorrow is a day of great importance for Chihiro. With Shiba-san’s help, he will be able to infiltrate that loathsome auction house where Hakuri’s father is keeping the merchandise and retrieve his precious sword. For years, rumors of the existence of a seventh enchanted blade drifted through the underground world without a shred of proof. That one elusive blade is spoken of by the patrons of the black market like a thing of legend, a literal object of desire, crafted by the fallen hero of Japan, Rokuhira Kunishige. And yet. It is no mystery. Enten is alive because Chihiro breathes his soul into it, senses it from a distance like a lost limb, cherishes it like a parent to a child. Chihiro keeps his father’s legacy close to his heart and away from the type of people who are undeserving of wielding its immense power, away from those who would hold no accountability for their actions if it were to fall in their hands. Therefore, it is the property of Rokuhira. His greatest treasure. But… it is lost, somewhere beyond his reach. All because Chihiro gave it away in exchange for Hakuri’s release.

I also started outlining my HakuHiro Pacific Rim AU fic but that one is going to take me months to write, so I probably won't share anything from it for a while.

[she-karev]

April and Amber Argue

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 5

Summary: Amber reveals to April about her night with DeLuca causing April to take out her conflicting feelings for Jackson out on her calling Amber selfish and destructive resulting in Amber insulting her back.

Words: 2861

April 26th, 2020

Amber is back in Jackson Avery’s penthouse feeling the wind touch her face as she leans forward on the balcony railing overlooking the city at night. It’s her first day back in her temporary home since her covid quarantine ended. Normally on a good day like today she would be celebrating or at the very least be happy to be healthy but instead she has an inner conflict that has been ongoing since she and Andrew DeLuca stepped out of that hotel room after spending the night together.

When she allowed herself to fully embrace him, she was so sure of herself and confident it was what she wanted. Amber wanted it very much because DeLuca has been taking care of her these past two weeks and overtime she’s come to appreciate his company during isolation. She didn’t think she wanted to be close to him like that again but when he took a shower in her bathroom she couldn’t resist. It was like all her memories of how he treated her over the past year left her brain and instead she felt around him how she used to before his mental breakdown.

But now she’s out of the room and all those memories came flooding back and she remembered why she is so reluctant to get back together with him. She remembered that while Andrew is more stable and taking his meds, she doesn’t fully feel like she can trust him and make herself vulnerable around him like she used to.

Her mom would be stable for a while too and then she would slip because something or someone would cause her to break. In those moments Amber had a front row seat to the delusions and aggression that unfortunately comes with schizophrenia. It frustrated Amber that she would always come second in her mother’s fractured mind, and it happened again when DeLuca was showing symptoms and would either lash out or ignore Amber completely.

And when her sweet older brother, Aaron, inherited the illness Amber was his first target during his first psychotic episode. It was a hard recovery after he beat her so bad she had to have surgery on her jaw. And it was especially hard for her to trust him around her. But she saw his regret and heartbreak the first time he visited her at their uncle’s three months after she was discharged. It was heart wrenching for her when he kneeled down seeing the post op bruises on her jaw and cried on her lap for ten minutes straight. He did something their mother never did with them, beg for forgiveness.

She could see her brother was doing the work to make sure he wouldn’t end up like their mother. He went from being a mover to a local courier so he can set up a steady routine for himself. He takes his meds every day and attends therapy with a doctor they like once a week. It was hard at first for him but he managed.

It got so to the point where he manages a moving business with a coworker friend of his. He gets to work behind a desk instead of driving around the city for hours. Aaron even met a kindergarten teacher named Emma four years ago and they married a year later and had two sons after that. Seeing him do so well and being a better parent than both of theirs combined had Amber forgive him completely and they keep in touch even while she’s in Seattle and he’s back in Iowa.

When he called her back in January she broke down in tears and confessed to him about Andrew’s mania and him kicking her out. He responded angry for her offering to come down and kick his ass. She rejected the offer knowing a duel between DeLuca and Aaron would end with her ex in a body bag. He told her she deserved better, and that DeLuca was an idiot to let her go. It made her feel better but not enough to quash the heartbreak.

Her phone rings and she picks it up and sees on the screen Mom’s name pop up to her displeasure. Amber has been dodging her mother’s calls since this year began. Being around Andrew and his chaotic mental illness triggered all the bad memories with her mother and made her reluctant to answer her phone. She could guess Aaron told their mom about the breakup and probably the covid and she wants to reach out as well. But Amber wasn’t in the mood instead opting for messages through Aaron knowing her mom doesn’t text. She hangs up the phone and puts it back in her pocket.

“Not picking up?” Amber turns to find April Kepner behind her with a comforting grin holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two straight up glasses in the other.

“It’s my mom I owe her a call.” Amber explains peeved before heading to the balcony couch, “And I will…as soon as I get some alcohol in this mouth.”

Amber plops on the couch with April joining her keeping a respectable distance on the armchair by the couch setting the items on the wooden coffee table in front of them.

April uncaps the bottle, “Jackson says sorry for not being here today he wanted to come but he had work today.”

Amber understands as April pours their glasses, “It’s fine I get it.”

“Plus, he’s trying to get Richard to talk to Catherine about wearing a mask.” April sips her glass, “He’s worried about his mom since he saw that picture of her mask dangling from her ear. She drives around town in a car with her driver and she’s immunocompromised, so Jackson is trying to get her to follow the rules so Harriet can grow up with her grandma.”

“Mothers are hard.” Amber supports with an irritated face sipping her drink, “Life is hard, everything is hard.”

April chuckles darkly, “Wow okay Edgar Allan Poe tell us how you really feel. You know for someone who just got a clean bill of health you are morose. More so than usual at least, what’s going on in your end?”

“You don’t want to know trust me.” Amber numbly replies before throwing her drink back and finishing it.

April looks worried for her friend who reaches over for the bottle to pour herself another glass, “Is this about DeLuca? I know he visited a lot when you were in quarantine did he upset you?”

Amber groans softly leaning back on the cushions with her glass in her hands in front of her, “No he didn’t he was…talking to him over the door was the only good thing to come out of this year.”

April nods in understanding, “2020 has been hard on all of us, it makes talking to your charming and stable ex over a hotel door during quarantine seem like Candyland.”

April tells her this out of understanding her friend’s predicament concerning opening themselves up to their exes who hurt them in the past. During Amber’s quarantine April comforted Jackson when he was sad about Amber, and he kissed her. She was shocked at first and told him not to do it again unless he actually wants to be with her.

When he kissed her, it was like a time machine came and took them back to when they were still married. It took them back to the blissful stage of their lives before grief and tragedy destroyed them. It was like they were back to their first night together and for a few seconds April was happy and responded back. Until she remembered their deal when she first moved in and how this hurdle could affect Harriet.

They both agreed then that the kiss was a stupid mistake on their parts that shouldn’t happen again. April wasn’t so sure the kiss was a mistake, but the uncertainty is what stops her from pursuing anything further. It stops her from repeating Montana and driving a bridge between her and Jackson that she can’t have right now. She’s not sure if she wants a relationship with him again but she is sure that she needs him in her life while the world is falling apart. It’s that thought that makes her relate to Amber on what she thinks is her considering DeLuca to be her anchor in the pandemic.

Amber sighs in agony before sipping her liquid courage so she can seek advice from her friend instead of Jackson who will most likely judge her, “It’s not that…I slept with him.”

April stops sipping and her eyes widen at this new information. Amber nods at that with a blank face before continuing.

“It happened last night, I was declared negative, he was examining me and…it was like a force took over and I gave in to him. I mean he has been so good to me while I was sick, he’s talked to me outside the door, he brought me food, he never left my side once. Seeing him like that it wasn’t the Andrew I resented for months now it was…it was like I saw the man I fell in love with.”

April sips her whiskey before responding, “So you two are back together?”

“No.” Amber exclaims before pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “I mean maybe I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Amber asks sharply, feeling triggered by her uncertainty as it reminds her of Jackson’s unsureness after Montana and after their recent kiss.

“I mean…” Amber struggles to find the words, “I wish the Andrew who broke my heart and the Andrew I fell in love with were two different people it would makes this so much easier but they’re not. The kind and generous man who got me to open my heart to him and the manic and irrational bastard who compared me to my parents are one and the same and it scares me. It brings me back to the time where I would excuse my mom’s behavior with her illness even when she got me in and out of foster care. My mom lost my trust, and so did he and I don’t know if I can do that again.”

April sighs at this is frustration feeling more sympathetic to DeLuca than to Amber that she makes clear as she coldly states, “Yeah well maybe you should have thought of that before you slept with him.”

Amber is taken back by this ice level statement from April and looks at her in blank shock. She expected comforting words and sympathy instead she’s getting snide comments from someone she considers a close friend.

Amber tries to explain to April who keeps her eyebrows furrowed and her lips in a thin line like she’s annoyed, “Well believe me having sex with him wasn’t part of my plan until I saw him and it became a moment of passion and it was-”

April interrupts rubbing her eyes in anger as she has déjà vu to when she first brought up Montana to Jackson who basically disregarded her feelings about it, “Well passion takes some thinking too Karev and unless you were possessed or passed out then the consequences of your actions are on you, and you should take responsibility instead of making excuses.” 

Amber gets defensive now, “I’m not making excuses I’m just talking to you about my feelings and my conflict about this.”

April pinches the bridge of her nose closing her eyes still frustrated, “If you’re so conflicted then why did you sleep with him in the first place? Why did you put yourself and him in this position when you could have let him walk away? Have you asked yourself that?”

Amber sips her whiskey narrowing her eyes at the interrogation, “I didn’t have time to question myself or him seeing as how we didn’t do a lot of talking last night when both of our needs were met after this isolating month.”

“Oh god don’t use the pandemic as an excuse.” April retorts with venom, “I’m isolating too, and you don’t see me jumping my ex because unlike you I care about the consequences, and I don’t use people like you do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Amber asks offended.

April wants to stop but her anger towards Jackson’s mixed signals has her taking her frustration on Amber after hearing her put Andrew through the same thing she’s going through, “You know what Amber sometimes you can be self-centered.”

Amber’s eyes widen at that as the red head continues, “I mean you focus on your needs and how something or someone can help you achieve that with no regard for the people you hurt.”

Amber scoffs at her cruelty, “Wow April, I think you hit a 20 on the harshness scale.”

“No what is harsh is you giving DeLuca hope and letting him think you guys are getting back together when you aren’t even sure he’s what you want.” April states factly, “Have you ever considered he has feelings too and how he’ll feel if you break his heart?”

“Of course I have.”

“No, you didn’t” April says with narrow eyes, “You are so caught up in your own point of view that you can’t see it from others especially Andrew’s.”

Amber looks slightly hurt by her desecration of her character, but April continues, “He has had a hard year and not just because of the pandemic. He suffered a mental breakdown, lost the woman he loves, and his home country is dying he doesn’t need you adding more to his plate. He is trying to keep his life and sanity together and you’re willing to sabotage that because you were horny.”

Amber’s mouth gaps open at that and she responds back in fury, “Okay you know what April this has been a really hard time for me and I had a moment of weakness. I saw the man I loved again, and I just wanted one night where everything was okay and after…after that I remembered why we can never work.”

April purses her lips in distaste that pisses Amber off, “What? Do you have something else to say?”

April groans sipping her whiskey, “I will not engage with you further.”

Amber chuckles sarcastically, “You know you think you’re doing me or yourself a favor by zipping it but you started this so you should have the balls to finish it Kepner. I’m here trying to talk to you about my life until you decided to point out everything, I’m doing wrong so come on I’m a big girl I can take it let’s go!”

“You are so caught up in your past you can’t move on.” April tells Amber who shakes her head throwing her hands up annoyed as April continues, “You say that you’ve worked hard to overcome everything your family did to you but if that was true you wouldn’t toss Deluca aside after he got better. He is doing everything to make things right in his life and not end up like his father. He’s taking his meds he’s going to therapy, but you still can’t see that he’s not your mom or your brother. You can’t see that he is the man you love. He’s the one with the mental illness but compared to him you have years of work to do before you can actually be in a stable relationship. And I am sorry Amber, but you are a coward for not seeing what is right in front of you.”

Amber scoffs and goes for the kill, “Oh I’m the coward? I’m the coward for leaving him after being exposed to this trauma again and leaving? You’re calling me out for leaving him when he needed me? That is a real pot kettle Kepner.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” April asks in disbelief.

Amber throws her drink back before getting down to it, “I left him because I couldn’t handle his illness attacking me, but you left Jackson because you couldn’t handle that he needed you after Samuel.”

April looks shocked at her friend going there, “You didn’t think he would need you you didn’t think he was in pain you just thought that he would be okay with you choosing a war zone over your marriage. You left him, he needed you and you left him, and it nearly broke him. Did you ever stop to think that’s why he didn’t bring up Montana until now? Did you ever think that’s the reason he is so reluctant to get back together with you?”

“I cannot believe you would-You know what.” April decides to stop before she hits Amber in the face. She puts her drink down and stands up, “Just forget it I’m going to bed.”

Amber scoffs and has a last word while April walks away, “Yeah great walk away from important things like you always do.” April doesn’t respond instead she goes upstairs leaving Amber in the balcony to drink alone now more angry than conflicted.

[ninetiescoppola]

SINGLE, SO WHAT?

A few months ago I went to my long term orthodontist. I have known her since I was fourteen, we gossip and tell stuff about our lives, just girls being girly. But this time that I left her office I almost had a little stroke for two things, one because she said “you must be really sad without a boyfriend” and the second was because I would have to wear braces again. I didn’t say a word, just nodded my head (for both phrases). On my way home I started to think: when a relationship could save me from my depression? 

My whole life I never had a healthy relationship. At first I thought that the problem was me, but then a few months apart I could see the awful and ugly truth (and when I say ugly I mean literally). When I look back and see those old mistakes I get chills, feel immediately nauseous and have a little voice in my head saying “what the hell were you thinking?”, but then the same thing happens over and over again every year, it’s like a cycle with no end. This year I decided that something had to change, so I chose celibacy… Or almost. Just a short break from men. Not having a crush on somebody is the most amazing feeling in the world. I feel that I could make the new Miss Dior commercial just to show how light and fresh I am. 

I kinda feel guilty for never having a serious boyfriend. I'm always so delusional and sensitive about everything that I totally ignore the walking red flags. It's like I was blind to all the bad traits and only be able to see things that you find fantastic at first, but then you realize that it was the bare minimum and you feel like a complete idiot for the rest of your life. I remember that this happened with my first boyfriend. I was a fifteen year old freshman in high school and we had the same classes. If the time machine were created today I would turn back just to slap myself on the face several times until my younger self gives up the idea of dating that creep. Oh, I forgot to tell the story… In summary, we dated for two months and he lied, cheated, treated me like shit and humiliated me in front of my friends. Turns out that actually he was dating my best friend at the time who moved from Chile. I found that out a few weeks later after we broke up on a facebook post. I felt crushed. For months I thought that was my fault because I wasn’t good, pretty or smart enough to be his girlfriend. And one day I realized that life took back something that clearly wasn’t good for me. It was not worth it. I had to get through all of that shit to see how amazing I was. A year after they broke up too. 

As I said before, I have always been a delulu or a Charlotte York kind of girl. I don't know if it's because I have too much pisces on my birth chart or if it's because I'm just a f-ing fool. Always idealizing the perfect guy with the perfect traits and the perfect personality. I understand that everyone has flaws but why does life keep sending me people with JUST flaws? C’mon universe I expected more from you!

After a while, I stopped searching for the ideal guy and started focusing on myself. All those years being a men's carpet I had decided that a makeover would be perfect: eight hours in a hairdresser’s salon, thousands of bucks on clothes and lots of skincare products later, I became a new person. And then I found my true perfect match: a credit card.

Having a boyfriend is really nice, but enjoying your own company and not owing nothing to anyone can be truly fantastic. I had to learn that the hardest way. Every weekend I enjoy a very caloric treat, sit my big ass on the couch and watch a movie or a whole season of a TV show in a row. After all, I rather suffer for not being some hot actor’s girlfriend than suffer for a stupid asshole who is proud to think that having a dick is a sign of dignity (hot boyfriend of the month: Nicholas Chavez).

[bujeokandbutterbeer]

ARC 4, Chapter 14: The Sharpest Quills Snap First

The lecture hall was already humming when the Circle of Stars arrived.

Despite the glamor-charms and temperature regulation, the air buzzed with heat—not magical, but political. Reporters filled the curved rows of benches in polished boots and rumpled coats, scrolls unrolled, Howlers flickering red with urgency, Quick-Quotes Quills already twitching on notepads.

But there was no stage. No podium. Just a long crescent of conjured chairs—and the Circle sitting across from them like a tribunal of silent resolve.

Jiah Moonjang entered last, robes changed to neutral charcoal gray. Koa Ten Bears stood just behind her left shoulder, hands loosely clasped. Yara Sahir, Kai’ohu Kealoha, Lysander Wolfe, and Orion Galeano were already seated, flanking the center with expressionless calm.

And anchoring the end: two older men.

Corwin and Riven of the Stonehearts cohort—alumni of the class of 1988, and Tayen Ten Bears’ closest friends—sat with folded arms and thunder in their eyes.

The silence stretched.

Then Jiah sat.

“You may begin.”

A dozen quills scratched to life.

A reporter from the left aisle raised their voice first. “Do you deny that Tayen Ten Bears was working outside regulatory oversight in the months before his accident?”

“Completely,” Orion replied. “Every protocol followed. Every license renewed. You're welcome to verify them with the Guild Registry.”

Another chimed in quickly, “Was anyone else present during the incident at the Order of the Iridescent Vial?”

“Yes,” Kai’ohu answered. “Three certified researchers, all of whom have signed statements affirming Tayen’s conduct and clearance.”

Someone from the back row leaned forward. “Is it true Tayen had disciplinary flags on his student record at SAIMA?”

Yara didn’t miss a beat. “He had citations for insubordination. For protecting students from professors who later lost their credentials. Funny how context changes a story, isn’t it?”

A murmur rolled through the room.

Then, the next voice came sharp from the second row. “Miss Moonjang, how long did you know Tayen Ten Bears was involved in unsanctioned potions experimentation before his coma?”

Lysander leaned forward first. "That’s a false premise. Next question."

The reporter blinked. "Excuse me—"

"You asked when Jiah knew something that never happened. That’s a textbook leading question, and we're not here to feed fiction."

Another quill twitched. A woman with too-bright eyes tried again. “Is it true that Tayen had a history of unstable magical behavior that SAIMA faculty covered up?”

This time, it was Kai’ohu who answered.

“No. And if you say otherwise in print, we will bury you in eyewitness affidavits and sealed transcripts. That rumor was started by a man who’s currently under investigation for falsifying accreditation records.”

A rustle of robes moved through the press.

Orion adjusted his glasses. “You’re referring to the Auror-flagged incident report from 1991, correct?”

“Correct,” said Kai’ohu. “And the individual who submitted it was removed from their post less than a year later for procedural misconduct.”

A bolder voice called out: “Why hold this conference at all if you’ve already decided what narrative is acceptable?”

Yara Sahir crossed her legs with precision. "We’re not controlling the narrative. We’re presenting evidence. You're free to ignore it. You're not free to distort it."

"Unless you’d like to explain why your notes differ from the certified pensieve we’re going to archive," Orion added, voice like polished glass.

“Certified by whom?” another reporter snapped.

“By the Department of Magical Integrity. Three times. As per protocol of SAIMA whenever there is a press conference with minors present. You’re welcome to request a viewing, but you’ll be doing so on record,” Jiah said, finally folding her hands over her knee. Her posture was deceptively relaxed.

At the end of the row, Corwin’s voice landed like stone.

“I was Tayen Ten Bears’ cohort leader in 1988. I watched him carry three younger students through a fire in our fourth year. I watched him stand between a cursed object and a professor who should’ve known better. I was there at the birth of the Jordan Hayes Project. You want to question his character?”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "You want to reduce a lifetime of sacrifice to one incident you don’t even understand? Be very careful. We know exactly how your kind spins grief into scandal."

Riven’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Please. Try. I haven’t hexed a journalist since the last war. And I won’t need to if you print what you’re actually seeing.”

There were a few forced laughs. But most of the room had gone still. Jiah smirked, silencing the room with one statement.

"Taesoo-oppa has offered the services of Vanguard & Volkov Law Group to us if we need them for assault, libel, or any sort of defamation."

Several Circle of Stars members held back outright laughing. Jiah would subtly remind the reporters that she has protective older brothers with their own connections.

“Where was the accident, exactly?” a quieter voice asked. "Some of the filings mention an external lab?"

Koa shifted slightly, and for the first time his voice entered the fray.

"It was at the Order of the Iridescent Vial," he said. “The leading potions guild in North America, operated by Jiwoon Moonjang—Jiah’s father. Fully licensed, fully staffed, and internationally certified. Tayen was cleared to be there. He was collaborating with three credentialed researchers."

“And the project?”

Jiah didn’t wait.

“He was researching treatment options for MCIS—Magical Core Instability Syndrome.”

A murmur rippled through the room. A few reporters scribbled faster.

“I thought that project was decommissioned?” one asked, brows rising.

“Detection efforts were defunded,” Yara clarified. “Treatment research continued under guild license. Jiah’s work on detection is separate—and was presented last spring at the Pan-Pacific Magical Symposium as part of her mastery.”

“Which Tayen attended and provided data for,” Kai’ohu added.

Jiah didn’t flinch. “We disagreed, actually. I wanted earlier identification. He wanted intervention later in the progression. But we both believed it could be treated. And cured.”

“Why wasn’t this disclosed sooner?” a witch in the front row pressed. “If this research was so important—why the secrecy?”

“Because you would’ve turned it into a scandal,” Riven snapped. “Because half of you don’t care what’s true—you care what sells.”

Corwin placed a hand on his friend’s arm, but his own expression was like weathered granite.

"We've seen your tactics. We’ve watched you chase shadows, ignore citations, cherry-pick quotes. And now you're here acting like this is about answers? No—it’s about what fits your editor’s angle."

Jiah exhaled slowly.

“Because Tayen knew how easy it is to twist intention into accusation. He didn’t want attention. He wanted results. And he didn’t live his life under the assumption he’d need to justify every good thing he tried to do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was tense, coiled.

Then, another voice—cool, precise—cut through the quiet. “With all due respect, Miss Moonjang, a dramatic story doesn’t disprove a pattern. Isn’t it possible that Tayen Ten Bears’ tendency toward magical overexertion is part of the larger concern?”

Yara's eyes flashed. “You're really going to question a life-saving act and call it a symptom?”

“There's a pattern all right,” Riven growled. “The pattern is you people stretching every act of compassion or brilliance into something dangerous because it doesn’t fit your angle.”

Corwin leaned forward, voice like gravel. “You want a story? Fine. The real story is that you’ve all been spoon-fed a false narrative by someone who wanted Tayen silenced. And you were too lazy—or too bought—to question it.”

The journalist didn’t back down. “You’re implying media corruption now?”

“I’m stating it,” Jiah said flatly. “And by the end of this investigation, I won’t be the only one.”

A final question came from the back.

“Will you be releasing any of his findings?”

“We’re compiling them now,” Orion said. “With oversight. With permissions. With respect.”

“And Tayen will be credited as the primary author,” Jiah added.

“Anything less,” Koa said, voice low and certain, “and we’ll consider it theft.”

No one argued.

Jiah stood.

But she didn’t leave.

Instead, she reached into her satchel and drew out a single folder—standard intake parchment, magically sealed, stamped by The Healing Wells.

“I wasn’t going to do this,” she said, voice lower now, but no less firm. “But if some of you insist on painting Tayen Ten Bears as reckless or unstable, then let’s talk about what real bravery looks like.”

She opened the file, revealing two intake forms.

“The first file is redacted,” she said, voice steady. “The patient was a minor. The notes are heavy. Critical condition. Magical destabilization. Coded on arrival.”

A ripple passed through the reporters.

“The second name is in bold. Tayen Ten Bears. Same date. Spring of 1989.”

She held them up, letting the Healing Wells seal flash in the light.

“Tayen found the patient in the Sierra Nevada mountains. No transport team. No backup. He took her into a leyline. And he ran.”

Koa’s jaw tensed. Kai’ohu closed his eyes.

“He ran from the Sierra Nevada range to Los Angeles. Nearly six hours. No breaks. He pushed his core past safe limits. Nearly ruptured it.”

She scanned the rows of press, her voice sharp now. “Do you understand what that means? Most experienced wixen can barely hold a leyline for an hour. He did six. And he paid for it.”

The room was silent.

“But he didn’t stop. Because someone needed him. And he thought she was worth it.”

Jiah set the files on the edge of the press table.

“If any of you want to keep reducing that man to a headline—fine. Just make sure you print this first.”

She stepped back.

“This is who Tayen Ten Bears really is.”

And then, her voice like a final knife:

“Oh—and before any of you try to twist the fact that we’ve included a minor’s intake file as some kind of corruption or favoritism—”

She let the pause linger just long enough.

“—that patient Tayen saved? Was me.”

She didn’t say it like a confession. She said it like a fact—a strike across the face of every headline that had tried to tear him down.

The silence that followed was unlike the others. No rustling. No scribbling. Just the heavy weight of a truth none of them could spin. Everyone in that room knew that if they tried to run that story in the papers there was no one and nothing that would stop Jiwoon Moonjang or Seyeon Baek from absolutely ruining the reporter and news outlet. 

Jiah straightened.

“He carried me out of the dark. For miles in leylines, nearly killing himself on the off chance of my survival. And he never asked for thanks. So now, I’m giving it.”

She let the words hang.

“Shame on you,” she added, quiet and unforgiving. “For trying to make him smaller than that.”

The folder made a soft, final sound as it landed.

“This isn’t the story you came here for. But it’s the only story you’ll leave with.”

🌟 Navigation 🌟

🔙 Return to Masterpage | 📖 Chapter Index |🧙‍♀️ Character Index | 🔮 SAIMA

⬅️ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ➡️

[hyunpic]

march 2023 with hyunjin

[izzielizzie93]

High School Sweethearts, J Burrow

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Highschool!JoeBurrow x Y/N High School Sweetheart

Summary: Do high school relationships last?

“What the fuck is this Y/N?!” Joe was sitting on my bed, holding up the hidden acceptance letter to The Ohio State. “I, uh, an acceptance letter.” I stuttered. “Why are you hiding it?” He glared, clutching it tighter, his eyes continually scanning over the page. “I wanted time to think and I knew I wouldn’t be able to once everyone found out.”

“I just needed to be sure of what I want, this is my future and I am so sick of everyone trying to tell me what to do.”

Joe huffed and shook his head. “Were you ever considering it, or did you lie to me this whole time?” “Of course I am considering it Joey, I want to be with you; but I have always dreamed of LSU.” I swallowed hard, digging my nails into my hand to keep from crying.

“You want to be a fucking teacher, come on you don’t have to go out of state for that shit.” Joe tossed the letter aside.

“Oh, ok. So when you told me to do what made me happy and that it would all work out in the end, you were lying to me?” I shot back, anger now bubbling to the surface.

“I was hoping you’d see that Ohio is where you need to be, apparently not.” Joe mumbled, standing up abruptly and storming out of my bedroom.

—

I had come clean to my parents as soon as Joe left and they promised to support me no matter my choice.

After two weeks of heated arguments in person, via text, and FaceTime, Joe officially committed to The Ohio State and their football team and I wasn’t there.

I was at home, formally accepting the offer from LSU and becoming a Tiger.

Later that same night, Joe stopped by and I snuck out to his truck. We sat there in silence for nearly five minutes before I spoke, “So you’re officially a Buckeye.” “You’re officially a Tiger.” He shot back. “Yeah.” I nodded. “So, we’re done.” Joe said flatly and I felt my chest tighten as my eyes filled with tears.

“We don’t have to be.” I sniffled. “Y/N, how the hell are we going to keep this up being so far apart?” Joe clenched his steering wheel. “What happened to all of the ways you came up with when we stayed up night after night filling out applications?” I asked. “I never thought we’d have to act on them.” He sighed, “I never thought I’d be without you.”

“Joe, we’re both going to be so busy in a few months. We don’t need to make any decisions now.” I reached out and he folded his hands in his lap. Dropping my hands back down, I was about to speak when Joe said, “I think it’s best if we do this now. It’s over.” I bit my lip hard as I rushed out of his truck, wanting to hold in my sobs so he didn’t see.

—

“Congratulations to the class of 2015!” I threw my cap up in the air and began to hug and celebrate with those around me. Glancing down the row, I met Joe’s gaze. We stared for a moment before I gave a small wave; which he returned.

A week later, I was all packed and ready to hit the road. My parents were in the U Haul and my sister was keeping me company in my car on the 18 hour trip. Just as I got into my car, my phone pinged.

~Good luck, Tiger~

__________

This was super short; but I’ve never posted anything I’ve written and I just wanted to put something out there! Thank you to those who read this! Should I make a part 2 after they’ve started college?

(Also I tend to stick to first person even with Y/N but do more people prefer second person and using you?)

[tmwcs]

Mermaids Tale - Chapter 8

Okay i managed to finish chapter 8 and am posting it. not really proofread so please, ignore the errors and mistakes. we're getting closer and closer to the good parts.

You shut off the row of fluorescent lighting in the great hall of the museum, the clicking of your heels against the tile flooring seldomly pleases your ears as the echo of each click clack travels around the artifacts.

It has been over 3 months since you met Heeseung, yet only a week since you last spoke. The last meeting you had with him…it was…

‘How could he do that to me?...I never want to see him again. Should I move? But I just got to this city…’

You became pensive in thought, wondering that if he really was an Adam. Not only that, but the effect he had when he sang at the karaoke bar…it was the same with you. What was he, exactly? Is he truly an Adam or something else? Is it even possible? The clan was formulated in Ancient Greece, can someone of Korean ethnicity be an Adam?

You guess that it could have happened. Heeseung could be a descendant of a clan member that somehow, made his way to Korea at some point of time in history.

You ran through numerous possibilities that would support any logic you could think of as to provide a reason that would ground your doubts, trying to make yourself feel reassured. Your mind relives the second that you extended your hand politely, stating your name and a proper greeting as you prepare to shake his hand, leading to your despair and ultimate shock when you were able to physically feel the touch of his hand holding onto yours.

Worse than that, the last meeting you had at the friendly gathering when you had done karaoke…after everyone left, he…

The image of Heeseung’s face as he bit his lips, grazed his tongue over the top row of his straight teeth, looking like he was about to feast on his prey…you. In some aspect, he got a taste. The moment his hands roamed and groped your breast, touched you in the area that you had never breached with your own hand, causing you to melt and experience something you’ve never felt before. When he took his fingers, after glazing them with a part of you, and licked them clean while making you watch…at the time, you felt strange. You were fearful and yet, there was something else about it…that in that split second, you didn’t seem to mind it, because your body wanted more.

Now, being away from him and isolated in your workplace, it made your blood boil just thinking about it.

You remember going back home that night, wondering if he truly was what you were warned of for so long. The thought of it scared you, so much, that you nearly heeded your mother’s words of direction. A piece you believed you should have, although you nearly felt confident that everything was safe as long as you remain at a distance from him. At this point, moving may be a considerable option, even though you had just relocated six months ago.

Your mind shifted from meeting Heeseung to the night you made that promise to your mom, the promise you didn’t keep after she gave you her earnest warning.

……..

“We can and we would feel everything. Even without being anywhere the ocean. That is the most significant way to tell, since the ancient times, Adams became the only man that Sirens can feel. That means, they can inflict pain. Outside or beneath our skin.”

“Then…what then, mama? If I run, where do I go?”

‘……….’

“You go back to the sea.”

………

The flashback ends abruptly as you hear the door from across the conference lobby nearby open. It was strange, considering everyone had clocked out, the only personnel that remained was security who were posted on the first level near the main entrance. They only conduct their security roves at midnight, which enhanced the confusing state you were in as you slowly made your way towards the lobby to see who had just walked in.

Your heart plummets to the to the bottom of your stomach.

Heeseung.

What is he doing here? How did he even know you’d be here? Did he find out you work here?

A series of questions run through your head as you felt a small gulp race down the center of your throat. You never told him where you worked, where you lived, or the usual spots you go for coffee or the markets. You never told him anything yet, he here he was, walking towards you.

Clad all in black, his leather jacket sways as he strutted in a rather harsh manner, as if he was on a mission. He was looking directly at you as he walked past the chairs and the conference table, his broad shoulders and arms develop a momentum from his manner of walking, giving him an aggressive posture. His face was firm, very stern frankly, but you noted the hint of fluster in his countenance as he began breathing slightly heavier the closer he got to you.

You opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing here, but for some unimaginable reason, your voice would not produce a sound. Instead, you found yourself muted as you stood there just for Heeseung to grab you, pinning your arms to the sides of your torso as he keeps walking, your hands grabbed on to the leather sleeves of his jacket, cupping his elbows for support as his relentless movement forces you to take multiple steps back until your back makes harsh contact with the wall.

‘No!...Not this again!’

Strands of your hair were caught in his grasp of your arms, semi-weaved in between his fingers as he squeezes them, burying the pads of his fingers into your skin. You started to feel the pain.

The pain…

A cross between the sudden realization that you regained the sense of touch as he encounters you, and the pain of his grip, swirled you into an emotional frenzy. Looking down at one of his hands that firmly gabbed onto you, you slightly shift up, wincing as your mouth slightly juts open.

You noticed the way his face was looking at you. It was calm yet he had a peculiar expression that almost made him looked concerned, but also aware of what he was doing, like he was testing something.  

Keeping the expression, he squeezes his grip around your arms. You wince again, only this time a small gasp escapes your mouth.

“You feel that… don’t you?”  

Your eyes felt shattered as they widened in horror.

What did he just say?

“W-what?...” you stuttered, the burn on your eyeballs indicated you were on the verge of sobbing from fear.

You play dumb for a moment, that little voice tries to calm you by telling you he was just speaking nonsense.

“I said…do you feel it?” he speaks out through gritted teeth and furrowed eyebrows. You was warning you through his expression, to not play with him, he was in no mood for it. Why? Why was he like this with you? How did he know to ask you if you could….feel?

You noticed his expression was starting to have less of that concerned look as a very subtle hint of annoyance shows within his brow line and his eyes as they glared down to you.

“Wh-what are you doing here? How did you know where I work?”

You winced in pain in between your words as you bid him to answer you. His face transitions to a very composed expression as he tilted his head back just slightly, projecting his features to look almost demeaning as he eyes you down with sharp, black, and piercing eyes. He took a single breath through slightly parted lips, leaned his face in and whispered in your ear.

“Siren…”

Your body jolts up as your hands break their position of cupping his elbows, instead, you reach up to place them on the broad surface of his chest as you begin pushing away. The look of fear and worry plaster your eyes as you struggle to break free from his grasp, your legs begin to tremble.

“Let me go! I said let me go!”

He looks at you sternly once more. How did he know? How did he…?

“So…you knew? Since the first time we met you knew about…me?”

He looked almost as if he was angered by the fact that you had a hint of who he was and refrained from telling him.

“Let me go Heeseung.”

You tried to match the harshness of his gaze as you sternly repeated your demand. It only propelled him to look angrier, and you were scared upon wondering what his intentions were.

Seeing the reflection of the light bouncing off the shine in your eyes, he leans his face closer towards you. Backing you up to the wall entirely, you were restricted in avoiding him closing in on you.

He got closer, you turned your face off to the side, his hands released their grasp of your arms. He reaches up and places his hand on your cheek and pulls your face forward, flushed with his.

His other hand finds your pelvic bone and he gently leaves it planted there as he pushes, causing you to shove tightly against the wall.

Taking a second to brush the tip of his nose against yours, his eyelids slowly becoming half shut and his slightly parted lips tapping against yours, he pushes out a long steady breath. You can’t believe that, even when it came to the temperature of his vapors, you could feel it. You felt everything.

Noticing your sudden reaction towards his actions, he closes the distance completely and kisses you.

Your first kiss. So this is what it feels like? His warm tongue forcing pass your lips, breaking entry, gliding over yours and merging deeper into your throat, while grazing over the roof of your mouth. It’s the first time you got to feel a kiss.

Then you realized, within this moment, there were physical surfaces, objects, and body parts you’ve never felt before, and you could feel them right now. Such as the wall behind you, the cool surface of it touching your skin, or his belt clip poking aginst your groin. You could feel it all, the wall, the kiss the inside of someone’s mouth, and the tip of someone’s nose. You could feel those things because of Heeseung.

You were relishing and becoming familiar with the sensation of everything.

Throughout your entire life, you never got to experience a moment such as this. The feeling of touch and physical sense had been limited to specific elements, and objects that could only be found by the sea whenever you basked in the water. Those countless days where you were the most joyful at the feeling of the wind, the sand, and the water, it all felt dull compared to this moment.

He gently breaks the kiss, but remained just a hair away, as if he was going to give it you again.

His eyes were lustful, and his breathing was deep.

“...You felt that?...” He whispered to you. His voice was softer than it was a moment ago, calm and deep, and very tender.

You nodded, also developing a lustful component in your eye. You couldn’t help it, this feeling and this sensation, all triggered by his touch…it was like nothing you ever could imagine. Your body reacted to it in a way that you wish it hadn’t, but in a way…you were welcoming it as you found yourself breathing harder, a painful knot developing in your gut, and the pulling of your hips as you retract them from waning to grind against his groin.

Seeing your dazed expression triggered him to smirk in a subtly manner, letting out a breath that expressed a hint of joy. Noticing it, you snapped out of your desiring state and  recontinued sour efforts to push him away.

He didn’t fight it, instead, he took two steps back as you peeled yourself off the wall, the moment you broke physical contact with him you felt your body losing the sense of touch, only to return when he walked after you and grabbed your wrist.

With a perplexed look on his face, he slightly shook his head at you in confusion and raised a brow at you, hinting the demand for an answer or an explanation.

“Let go.”

“Why?”

“Because…I want to leave.”

His grip tightened around your wrist, your sense of touch returns along with the pain and pressure admitted by his grip.

“Because of the history between our ancestors?”

His words shocked you, forgetting the importance of getting away, you turn and inquired about his knowledge on both of your ancestral makeup.

“How…how do you know of that?”

“My grandfather told me….my great-great-grandfather, actually.” Still maintaining the grip on you, his eyes shift their gaze to the floor beneath your feet.

“….is he…?”

Heeseung knew where you were going with your words as they trailed off. He nodded as he looked into your eyes once more.

“Yeah…he is. I guess I’m one too…an Adam, or whatever we’re called.”

Feeling a moment of defeat caused you to look off to the side of your shoulder in amazement.

A whole male line of Adams that had been in the city you moved into and resided in for the last six months…how could you be so unlucky?

“We should talk.” Heeseung’s words were spoken firmly, but with a calm tone in his voice.

But you didn’t want to talk; you didn’t want to be in the same room or building as him. Your mother would scream if she were to witness this right now. You should be heading to the airport and getting a one-way ticket to Greece, next to the Adriatic Sea, just like your mother had done when your father was reaching of high age.

But Heeseungs expression was mellow and calm. You’re not sure what your mother had imagined or pictured in the case of seeing an Adam, no one did, apart from the original Sirens born directly out of Poseidon’s blood and seafoam. But you wondered if she had become overly fearful from what transpired with the direct line of the clan, because Heeseung was not presenting any threat that you could sense. There was no presence of danger or ill will, just him in his normal temperament. At least, for now.

You stayed, just for a little while to talk to him. Although the talking didn’t really start until after a very lengthy pause of silence, where you both found yourselves staring at the wall and the floor.

“What did your grandfather tell you?”

“Quite a bit. Mostly giving me an explanation…”

“An explanation?”

 Facing you directly, his legs were extended at a tilt to project the leaning posture he committed to against the front of your desk.

“…The day I met you…I started to…get this feeling.”

“A feeling?...” You raised your eyebrow, starting to get concerned with his choice of words.

“Yeah…well, more like urges. It was like…I had this instinct to always find you, to the point where I couldn’t sleep. That’s how I was able to find you tonight. There’s a pulse that beats faster…and louder when you’re nearby. It becomes more intense the closer I get to you. ”

You should have left right at that moment, but for some reason you needed to hear more as you grew dangerously curious about what he was saying.

“He told me that as a descendant of your bloodline…you don’t have the ability to physically feel anything…I guess that’s why, our bloodlines had history together.

“You’re saying ourancestors had history because we could feel…you?” you scoffed out.

You puzzled the concept of what his grandfather had told him. It didn’t appear to be as descriptive from what the women in your family had passed down to each generation.

“I have to go. I can’t be here with you.”

His face reflected a vivid image of disappointment. “Why?”

“Just…leave me alone, Heeseung. I’m…I’m thinking of leaving and moving away. I can’t be anywhere around you or your family.”

You didn’t know how to finish off your sentence, considering you truly were unaware of what would happen, it didn’t help that your mother was so vague, yet it wasn’t her fault, since more than likely didn’t know herself. She was only told the same things she shared with you.

“Would it be so bad if you…stayed?”

He asked you, evident in his attraction towards you, his affection and fondness towards you grew more intense each time you met up with him.

“I think it would be.” you spoke out bluntly, unsure how to back up the plausibility of your statement.

“I don’t think it would” He straightens his posture and moves away from his leaned state at the front of your desk. “ I think you’re scared…but you don’t seem to know what you’re scared of. Are you scared of me? Is that it, y/n?”

You avoided to answer. You became evasive to the manner of how he appealed to you with his demeanor and restricted yourself from making any subtle movement in your body to reflect that you were entertaining his rather appalling statement.

“It’s just…if you go, I don’t know if I can stop. It gets worse the more you push me away, and I can’t control it…you’re turning me into a monster.” He speaks out softly as he slowly makes his way towards you.

Your heart started to beat faster, your chest was sore, and your insides was churning.

“I just don’t know why…we can’t leave our ancestors out of it…out of me and you. I don’t know why…you believe that we can’t change the pace of history between our two family lines.”

He was appealing to you in earnest; the moment he saw your face he lost his breath from the sight before him.

Your eyes were like hooks, he couldn’t find any way to break contact from them. He’s never seen a woman so beyond beautiful. Society has given him a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to true and earthly beauty, with all the girls in Korea, and nearly every other continent, they all resorted to extreme artificial measures to enhance their faces and bodies. Yet, after exhausting so much time, effort, and money on to themselves, they didn’t reach his soul like you did.

You had an essence about you, an aura, and it wasn’t just an emotional vibe. He could see it in your eyes, lips and hear it through your voice, it only fueled him to become more daring, because to him, you were his Mona Lisa, the Virgin Mary, his Eve, the ideal canvas of womanhood.

The moment you shook his hand, and he saw the reaction on your face, his body felt like for the first time in his life, it was coming together like a puzzle, piece by piece. He never felt so whole, there was this yearning to feel more, and to see what else he’s missed out on in life.

He felt a burn that started in a consolidated state, right in the center of his chest. When he left for home that night from the party, he could feel it traveling his entire body, even in his skin. The only time it wasn’t infesting his soul was when he had you and touched you. That’s how he knew you belonged to him.

That minute when he was rendered motionless at the parking lot, he didn’t know what was happening but there was this knowing inside him that told him it was because of you. He needed to be close to you. He needed to be close, not for the fact that your obvious beauty was something that every man wanted for himself, although it was a triggering factor for him, but he also knew that you were special.

The flashbacks of your face, the sound of your voice, and the grace you carried as you walked, it felt unreal but also familiar to him and he was drawn to it. It wasn’t obsession or some level of infatuation, it was stronger. A lot stronger. He couldn’t sleep, eat, and every second he breathes the burn in his chest radiates with ignition.

He was suffering, yearning, and he was wanting. He would never admit it to you, although he already mentioned that he can pick up on your presence, but he had this continuous urge to find you. He needed to find you and keep you; he wasn’t sure if he hated himself for feeling that way, either. From the moment he started feeling the pressure, it was confusing and frustrating, but when his grandfather told him of their bloodlines, Heeseung began to accept that you both belonged with each other, and from the moment he came to that resolve, that’s when he started enjoying this game of seeking you out.

As Heeseung remained pensive, you raised your sight from the spot on the tile floor to tell him that you were leaving once more. But you stood frozen solid after noticing that while he was deep in thought, his eyes were staring straight into yours, right into the depths of your soul, almost as if he was seeing through you.

You’ve never seen eye contact like that, it was eerie to you. You would be lying if you told him that his eyes didn’t make you feel like you were in danger. They did.

You felt threatened, and intimidated. You’re not even sure how it was possible, but his face was different than how it looked just minutes ago, it had altered significantly enough to change his countenance, and it was literally happening before your very eyes.

His brows were normally straight which gave him a friendly, and soft appearance; however, you were stunned to notice that there was a bit of an arch to them. It casted a shadow over his eyes that, as you watched, hovered, and darkened the brown coloration, creating a marbling of black and glossy shine that was spearing through you. The round, almond shape became sleeker and narrower, his lids were heavier. The combination of the arch in his brows and the transition in his eyes made him look sinister.

His mouth was shut at a relaxed state, but you could see the minor movement in his jaw that his tongue was gliding over his teeth, the inside of his cheek, and behind his bottom lip. He looked hungry. His lips were no longer a lush, nude pink, instead, they were slightly darker, the maroon tint in the shade made him look bold. His cheeks, which normally had a suppleness to them, were slightly more contoured and sharper. His glare was so intense that you started to notice tiny beads of sweat tracing his hairline. His hair no longer looked soft, it was still combed over but the strands looked wild and rough, lacking the luster and smoothness they had just moments ago.

You could feel your eyes growing wider as you watched the transformation of his face, it was a subtle change, but the difference was vastly. He looked as if he matured a bit. Just as you noted all the changes, you were horrified when you noticed another change as he spoke.

“What?” He chuckles. “See something different? Or is there something about my face that you’re taking notice of?”  he smiles as he licks his lips, the look he gave to you..it was….

‘What is happening to him?...’

Heeseung’s voice was deep. It was calm but there was a vibration in his tone, it sent predatory signals to your ears. He said his words with a smirk, but it didn’t carry vibe of a quirky, fun, and playful essence. This one wasn’t like that at all. The corner of his mouth stitching upward, revealing teeth. When he opened his mouth, you watched as his tongue glides over the bottom row of his teeth, from cheek to cheek. He did it suggestively as you watched, while he tilted his chin down and narrowed his eyes at you.

You sprinted towards the door, quickly slamming the door shut as you simultaneously exited through, and ran out of the conference room, down the nearest stairwell going past each level as you desperately try to reach the first floor.  

Replaying the words he used earlier, when he spoke of the urges and how he couldn’t control them. You were beginning to realize that since he felt your skin and vice versa, the moment he saw your face, and smelled your scent, he had slowly been changing ever since.

Pushing him away and remaining distant from him these last few weeks did make him worse, but it was only his urges and desire to seek you out that was worsening. Refraining yourself from seeing him had only propelled the instincts in his blood to be drawed out from its suppressed state, like thunder, the urges and desires built from past generations of Adams, was all coming out through him.

You ran and exited the building, quickly flagging down a cab and making a trip back to your home.

Your heart was beating intensely, and fast. You were amazed that he escaped and that he didn’t follow you. Knowing that if you stayed at home for the night, he would have relied on those sensations to find you, since he’s now able to sense your presence.

Taking drastic measures, you figure it was safer to collect your belongings and head to the airport. It wasn’t the life you wanted to live, but the instinctive fear within you from this man compelled you to take the route of your mother, and the women before her. You were planning on going to Greece, and back where your ancestors emerged from, the sea.

Realizing that you were in such a rush to leave, you had left your wallet behind. Thankfully, you had additional identification at home, not to mention your passport.

The cab drops you off, and you hurriedly made your way to the door. Entering, you didn’t bother to flick on any of the lights, just one that remained dimmed as you quickly gathered your things.

As you grabbed your suitcase, you jammed anything you got your hands on, not even concerned about matching attire or going through a list, since you only had planned on being on land for one day. By the morning after you fly in, you’ll be in the water, searching for your mother and the other Sirens.

‘I can’t believe it’s come to this…I didn’t want to live that life…I wanted to stay…and I would have been able to, if it wasn’t for him.’

Pausing for a moment, you felt the frustration of having to be forced to take a path that didn’t please you. Not only that, but what if you couldn’t find your mother or the others? What then? You would be forced to roam the ocean alone…forever alone. Hiding away from men and land to conceal your identity and secret.

You knelt onto the floor with your hands on the edge of your bed to support your weakened frame as you quietly sobbed.

“Why are you crying?”

His voice….HIS VOICE….

Snapping your head back, your eyes widened as you turned your body to the side and begin tapping your fingers on the floor beneath you, wanting to grab onto something…anything, yet the smooth flat surface didn’t grant your wish.

He walks over, kneels right beside you, facing your direction. With a soft and deep tone, he smirks and asks you yet again.

“Why...are you crying, y/n?”

The tears in your eyes begin to stream down. You didn’t’ want to answer him, knowing full well that his resolve would be to try and convince you to stay with him, which was another route that you didn’t want.

“If you don’t want to go, then stay. Be mine…forever. We have our whole lives, and from the looks of it, it might be eternal…” he smirks as he reaches up, wiping the tears from your delicate face.

“So fucking pretty…” he chuckles slightly out of joy. “To think that I get to wake up every single day and see this face…” he leans into you, you suspected he was going to kiss you as he eyeballed your lips, but you turned your face away harshly.

He sighs out in disappointment. Once again, his features begin to change into a darker appeal from his normal countenance.

“…It wouldn’t be so bad, y/n. To be with the one person who understands you…. wouldn’t question your unchanged appearance and wouldn’t turn on you and reveal your secret to the world…it wouldn’t be bad at all. Why? Why can’t you see that being with me….it would make your life easier…it would make mine happier.”

His fingertips slide down your arm as he gazes down to the subtle exposure of your cleavage, emerging from the neckline of your dress.

“P-please…just leave me alone…I don’t want to leave but I don’t want to be with you. I’m…I’m scared.”

Looking back up at you, his face was stern. He looks down at your hands as he questions your remark.

“You shouldn’t be…I care for you…I desire you…i…I love you.” he softly whispers the last bit.

“Heeseung stop!”

“But I do….i love you, I want to marry you, I want to be with you. I want to keep you…so let me….let me keep you. I’m trying to give you the freedom of choice but if you’re going to be stubborn about it, then I’ll be the same way.”

He embraces you and pulls you against his frame.

“Stop!”

Shifting upwards, he pulls you up as he stands, locking both your lips in the process.

“Stop please!”

“Can you feel that? Can you….?” he speaks in between his kisses, which became more relentless and stronger the more he did it to you.

“Fuck…I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this…you’re so amazing.” He gasps out, his eyes extremely wide as he pauses the kiss. Stepping forward, he causes you to step back and fall onto the bed, with him remaining plastered to your body as he falls atop of you, smothering your face with kisses.

“Stop! Why? Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t answer for a moment or two, he was tenacious on kissing, licking, and biting your skin as his mouth was harshly assaulting your neck, chin, and collar bones.

Finally, he pauses and looks at you, pressing your foreheads together.

“Y/n…you must be a virgin…aren’t you? I bet you never had the urge to do it since…you never felt anything.” He watches as your lips quivered.

“H-Heeseung…please…don’t…just don’t.”

“I can…I can do it…I can make you everything….but since it’s your first time…it’s going to hurt….alot.” He grins against your lips, his eyes go back to being wide as he stares into yours.

“Please….i’ve never done anything…I wouldn’t….i wouldn’t hurt you or your family…or anyone…why are you doing this? Why, Heeseung?”

His expression showed off a hint of amusement.

“I already told you…I can’t control it…you’re turning me into a monster…you’re bringing out the beast within me.”

Reaching up, he gently moves the pieces of hair that lay across your face. Even with the sinister appeal within his face, he softly smiles…it was gentle and somewhat warm.

“I promise…after tonight, the next time, it wont hurt as much.” He states, gently giving you a small kiss before he continued. “But tonight…I’m afraid there’s going to be a little bit of pain…”

Looking up as he traps you within his arms, you felt hopeless.

“Let me have you…y/n just say yes. If you don’t…you’re only making it worse…I wont stop….say yes baby…let me ease my craving…let me have you, let me keep you, let me worship you….”

‘You must go back to the sea….y/n.’

For a moment, your mother’s voice travels your mind.

‘I’m sorry…mama…..i’m sorry. I really tried….but he won’t stop…he keeps coming after me. I want to leave…I really do…I wanted to live my life and continue moving on…but I’m afraid I wont be able to…at least….not without him. I have no choice. I give up….because now that he knows what he is…what I am…and now that he realizes his capabilities….I’m afraid that I am no longer safe, no matter where I go….even if it is in the sea.’

Closing your eyes, you nod as your nose grazes his cheek from the closed distance between your faces.

“Really?” he softly gasps out in delight. “You’ll be mine…forever? You’ll stay with me as long as we both live?”

Once again, you nod as you winced your eyes shut. Emotionally stabbed by the future that you’re faced with, you didn’t know if it was the fear of running into anymore Adams…or if it was the fact that Heeseung could find you no matter where you were. You gave up.

Excited at your obedience to his desires, he mashes his face against yours and engages in a heated kiss while grabbing onto your waist.

Pausing as he begins to pull the straps of your dress off your shoulders, he softly kisses them with the most tender and soft kisses you’ve ever witnessed, let alone felt. They all trailed up your neck, and up to your ear. Whispering deeply with a soft and tender tone, he tells you.

“Scream for me…my Siren. Scream out my name.”

[liptonsbabe]

Shadow of you [J.B]

Jacob Black x Fem! Vampire! reader!

Summary: Jacob is a shapeshifter now. Imprinting is something that will happen eventually. The reader is a vampire. She rather die before getting a mate. Suddenly Jacob imprints in her and the reader find her mate in him. Life and death. Hot and cold. The reader has some decisions to make

Warnings: none

Word count: idk lol

A/N: Ok first of ALL i’m so SORRY for not posting anything in like... four months lol. I know that i have to update part 3 of time with Jacob but inspiration has left me so i haven’t finished it yet. I’m halfway there and i hope i can update it as soon as posible. pls don’t kill me lol

Same note as ever, english not my mother language so yeah, excuse any mistakes. Enjoy!

"So, how long will you stay this time?"

"Long enough for me to get bored" you replied. Edward looked at you with a raised eyebrow "I may leave tomorrow or in a week, who knows?"

"I don't like what you do"

"You should be happy to see me" you said climbing on his back in one nimble move. Edward didn't flinch, instead he clutched his hands in your legs.

"I am, but I would be even more so if you didn't disappear overnight"

"It's in my nature."

"That's not what I meant."

"I'll stay for a good while this time, I promise" Edward got you off his back and walked slowly around your room. You hadn't been there in several decades and some stuff were covered in dust. Edward offered to clean your room and did it in a couple of seconds with his superhuman speed. You followed him and joined your hand with his. Your hands together were as cold as ever "I heard you're getting married and I couldn't miss the wedding."

"How did you know?"

"Alice" you said and that was enough for him to understand "She looked for me for weeks and when she finally found me she didn't hesitate to give me the good news. She even offered me to be the maid of honor. Of course I declined the offer."

"Why?"

"Because it would be weird to witness the wedding of the guy who broke my heart in the front row."

Edward shook his head and smiled slowly. Edward was first turned by Carlisle and after he turned Esme he turned you when he saw you badly hurt after a terrible car accident. Carlisle intended to make you a couple and you tried so hard to make things right, however things didn't work out when Edward decided to end what you had when he couldn't see you as anything more than a sister. Neither of you were in love tho, but both of you clung to the idea that your existence after death was limited to spending the rest of your existence together and you wanted to drag it out as long as you could, even though your misgivings about losing your human essence disgusted you.

You didn’t have a good relationship with Carlisle. In fact, he was the main reason you decided to leave the Cullen household. He had the blame for your miserable existence and the last thing you wanted was to share the same roof for centuries. Rosalie understood your feelings and although she had a more cordial relationship with her adoptive father, she also held a grudge against him for turning her.

So your relationship with Edward was over and you felt nothing for him other than affection as a good friend. As soon as Alice told you about the wedding you were happy for Edward cause he could finally be happy the way he wanted to.

What you didn't expect was that Edward's future wife was still a human.

"Shut it."

"You know I'm joking. I'm over it and I'm glad I got away from you. You're so weird."

"Anyway I appreciate you coming" Edward said squeezing your hand. He smiled wide "It was very important to me that my whole family were here with me on such an special day."

"You'll do fine" you comforted him stroking his arm. You could feel his nervousness and the wedding fear on his shoulders "I bet you've rehearsed your words over and over"

"You know me well."

"Did you give her your mother's ring?" you asked. Edward nodded. Before, when you were a couple and you two tried to keep the relationship afloat Edward promised it would be yours, but now it was Bella's, his fiancée "It's okay, it doesn't bother me, it doesn't bother me!" you assured laughing. The truth was that you didn't mind too much. “Don’t be sorry. It's better this way, she deserves it."

Edward walked back across the room looking through the shelves for a small box that had been hidden for a long time, he picked it up and walked towards you, showing you a rose gold necklace. He put it on you and his cool fingers on your neck felt like porcelain.

"This one is still yours though."

"I thought you gave it to Bella too" you said smiling. Edward shook his head "You should have"

"This one holds a special affection, different from the one that binds me to Bella. It will always be for you"

"I hope your wife won't get jealous when she sees me wearing it at the wedding." Edward giggled.

"Bella knows that and she's fine with it."

"All right, then."

"Carlisle still doesn't know you're back. He's been taking double shifts at the hospital."

"Are you forgetting that you have a sister who can see the future? Alice may have told him by now"

"She didn't, Alice wanted it to be a surprise."

"I know what you're thinking and I refuse" you said. You didn't need to have Edward's special gifts to discover his intentions. He wanted you to go all the way to the hospital where Carlisle worked and surprise him with your arrival. That wasn't going to happen. You weren't even sure you would stay home until Esme made you promise to do so. Edward frowned "Please, you know how I feel about that."

"He loves you."

"I'm sorry it's not mutual"

"Deep down I know you're grateful to him."

Your eyelids narrowed and Edward noticed how your gift sparkled in your eyes. You possessed the power of hypnosis causing others to obey you in everything just by looking at you. Your eyes would turn purple and at worst, completely black. Edward cleared his throat. You were so angry

"Grateful? Grateful, you say, for turning me into a beast?"

"I mean, thanks to him you were able to get to this point, to meet us, to have a family."

"You call this a family? I thought you understood, Edward. We're nothing more than a group of strangers bereaved by an uncertain fate. We are tied to each other because we have no choice."

"Bella does and she has decided to be with me. To be part of our own."

"She's making a mistake" you replied squeezing your eyes shut. You didn't want to hurt Edward "Even though I feel happy for you cause you finally found your mate doesn't mean I didn’t think thousands of reasons why giving up his human life is wrong. You know that. You understand this shit better than anyone."

"I knew it from the beginning."

"But if it is her decision and she wish to spend the rest of her existence as one of us then I respect that. We all think differently but if i could trade her human life for my existence as a vampire I would with no doubts"

"I know you would."

Suddenly the atmosphere became tense. No one was surprised by how much you hated your condition as a vampire and the way you cursed it every day. Your human life wasn't good at all, but what if it wasn’t? Your family had problems and most of the time you had to take care of your younger siblings and their upbringing, yet existing as a being without a heartbeat was terrifying. You wished you could feel warmth again, that your lungs would fill with fresh air, your fingers would caress the flowers and your heart would thump against your chest. Warmth. You missed that of all things.

Carlisle should have let you die. That was better than living as an empty shell.

Edward rubbed your arms, but his touch didn't comfort you. Remember the past tormented you and rekindled your desire to disappear forever.

"You can always change your mind" Edward said "I understand that you can't come to like who you are, but at some point something may happen that makes you see things from a different perspective. Maybe... you know, you can find someone who..."

"And doomed him to live an eternity by my side? I'd rather turn into ashes" you replied. You had always been reluctant to bond with someone, more so if that someone was an ordinary person like Bella "I would never do something like that. To change a person into a vampire, taking away their essence. I'm not that kind of a beast."

Edward sighed. It was a hopeless case trying to convince you.

"Alright, let's not talk about this anymore, okay? Why don't we just take a walk, huh? How long has it been since we've competed to hunt?"

"Hunting? Even Alice is better at it than you!  We can look for something in the forest, but let's not talk about a competition because you will lose!"

"You seem pretty sure about that."

"Ed, it was Emmett who taught me how to hunt, do you really want to do this?"

Edward rolled his eyes. No, he didn't want to

"Whatever."

You left the house heading deeper into the woods where you could find a good prey in a matter of minutes. You were good at it and honestly doing it with Edward was a lot of fun. He never shut up and talked the entire hunt, which allowed you to concentrate better on his voice and relax.

When you were both satisfied you prowled through the woods. Edward told you about his school days and you told him some stories from the places you had visited. You even told him about the time you stayed with the Denalis and how his hatred for shape shifters had grown after his confrontation with Laurent. Edward listened intently, pursing his lips.

You liked the Denalis. Even if you didn't consider them family they were kind to you and respected your position towards vampirism. They never tried to change your mind and listened for hours to your every complaint. Anyways, they already had their coven formed and you couldn’t interfere in it cause, for them, you were already a Cullen, even if you hadn’t taken Carlisle’s surname . Although you did with Rosalie's.

The truth was that being like this with Edward was relaxing. The forest was quiet and the starry night drew silhouettes among the trees. You both went down a hill that flowed into a river. You were about to cross it when Edward stopped you.

"Hold on. We can't cross the line, it's their territory."

"Do you still keep that silly treaty?"

"As long as we are here we have to. We are forbidden to set a foot on their land."

"Please" you said, rolling your eyes "I think it's more than clear that we're not the type to hurt people. So..."

You ran to the other end and in the blink of an eye you were on the other side of the forest. Edward was slow and stood with his hand outstretched trying to slow you down. You turned to him asking him to follow you, but the impact of a huge mass against your body sent you straight into the water hitting your head on the rock.

Edward came down to help you even though you didn't need it. You got up soaking wet and gritting your teeth you faced the thing that had pushed you. It was a huge brown wolf escorted by the rest of his pack. You were so furious that your vision was blurred for a moment, making you use your power against them. Edward squeezed your arm asking you not to.

"We can't hurt them."

"You won't be able to, but I..."

"We'll leave" Edward told them. The wolves growled "My sister just arrived and she doesn't know about the treaty" he lied. "She follows our diet and won't be a problem to Forks, I promise."

You were upset. Edward had no need to explain himself to them or offering apologies of any kind. That treaty was meaningless and you were free to loiter wherever you wanted. You wanted to confront them, but Edward forbade it. The wolf that attacked you earlier growled angrily and walked forward.

Your violet eyes locked onto his trying to hypnotize him, but the hypnotic effect was different than you thought. You felt a spasm run down your back and the feeling of wanting to get closer to him flooded your mind. You didn't know what was happening until the wolf howled, lay down in the brush and shook his head vigorously. Then he got up, looked at you for a few seconds and ran off.

The rest of the pack stayed in place. The big black wolf in the background approached Edward and growled something in the wind

"I know, Sam. I'll talk to Carlisle about this."

"Talk about what?" you said. Edward asked you to be quiet. The black wolf howled and the rest of the pack disappeared into the woods. Before he left he glared at Edward causing him to sigh wearily.

"I'll keep that in mind."

When the wolves were gone Edward and you left the river, walked back home and before you went inside you asked him for an explanation. He refused, but you insisted til you convinced him that it wasn't a good idea to use your hypnosis on him.

"What was it with those shape-shifters?"

"They were upset because you violated the treaty."

"A thousand year old treaty? Yeah, that's silly."

"No, it isn't. It's sacred."

"Living with Carlisle has changed you a lot, I see."

"Listen" he said, holding you by the shoulders "We can't go against the rules. That's not how we manage here and they have as much power in their lands as we have in ours"

"So we can't go beyond the riverbed?"

"You can" he tried to explain "I mean, I think so. You can do it now, I guess. Something like that."

You frowned

"What?"

"(Y/N), do you understand what happened just now? When that brown wolf looked at you and lay down in the brush in front of you?" you shook your head "It's... the equivalent of what we felt when we found our mate, He..."

"What?" you asked, atonished. Edward nodded "You're joking. Tell me it's a fucking joke, don't play with that!"

"(T/N)..."

"That's crazy!"

"We'll talk to Carlisle, we'll try to work it out."

"So what?" you laughed unfunnily as you tossed your hair back "What does this mean, that I'm part of his pack now or what?"

Edward closed his eyes.

"I think so. Yes"

"Bloody hell."

[buckyhoney-library]

Hey so I'm new to the whole 'requesting' thing. Anyways I have an option Bucky has a secret girlfriend. This'll take place between post-Winter soldier and post- civil war. Team cap has to go somewhere and Bucky wants to say goodbye to someone. Once they reach the readers and her and buck do some sort of act of love (hug, somethin special) and the team realizes that it's his girlfriend Thanks doll🖖✌️

Secret Girlfriend

A/N: This was a super cute idea 

Warnings: soft!bucky

Words: 1k

“Who’s he talking to? I thought we were his only friends?” Sam questioned, looking back as Bucky picked up his phone and left the room. Steve’s eyes following Bucky’s movements as he slowly paced the hallway.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged, returning to packing his suitcase.

“I’m leaving for three weeks- tonight actually,” Bucky’s smile gets smaller as he informs you that you’d be without him for an extended amount of time. You stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. You knew that stuff like this would happen when dating an avenger. Having to leave at a moment’s notice to save the world, there was a part of you that wished Bucky would have stayed. Coming up with an excuse to not go, but that would only bring an unnecessary concern to Steve.

“We got the orders a couple of hours ago; I wish I didn’t have to go.” Bucky huffs.

“Is there a way that I can see you before? Just to say goodbye?” You managed to hold back the tears. This would be the first time Bucky will be gone this long. 

          The two of you met just after he returned from Wakanda. You were working at the coffee shop he would stop by every morning. While making friendly conversation with you, he began to know you better, leading Bucky to feel comfortable enough to ask you to dinner. Of course, you said yes.

That was almost five months ago. Bucky having his own place, allowed him to be able to keep this part of his life private. It’s not that he didn’t want them to know, but it was something that he wanted to be sure of before sharing. You were also the only thing at the moment that wasn’t filled with history or was work-related. You had been his get-away from the fast-paced life of avenging.

“Yes, I’ll come by before I leave. Will you be home in an hour?” He asks, Bucky knew he needed to see you beforehand and a phone call wasn’t going to cut it.

“I’ll be at work, but you can still stop by. I’ll take my fifteen when you come in.” You respond eagerly. This gave Bucky a good excuse to stop before leaving for Germany.

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon, Darling.” His smile reappearing. “I’ll see you soon, just text me before you get here, bye Buck.” You hang up and start to get ready for your shift.

When he returns to the room to finish his packing, he was greeted by Sam and Steve with curious expressions on their faces.

“Who was that?” Steve gestured to his phone. Bucky just shrugs, “Old friend,” Sam chuckles to himself,

“Must be a really good friend if they made you actually smile instead of bruting in the corner,”

.

          The van was all packed and everyone was inside. Sam and Steve taking the front seat, Nat and Bucky in the second row, leaving Clint and Wanda in the back row.

“Can we stop for coffee?” He as innocently as Steve drives out of the compound.

“Yeah, I think there is a Starbucks-“

“No, there is a coffee shop just off exist thirteen, like a block from my apartment.” He states, Sam looks back at him, raising his eyebrow with growing suspicion.

“Yeah, I guess that’s okay,” Steve replies. The car ride there was filled with small chatter between them. Bucky pulled his phone out to text you, letting you know he was almost there.

“Who’s ‘darling’?” Nat chuckles, glancing over at him.

“Nobody.” Steve and Sam look at each other, Sam starting to connect the dots. He doesn’t say anything but stays quiet trying to keep from teasing the shit out of him.

          When they pulled up the coffee shop, Bucky eagerly gets out. Leaving the rest of the team watch him as he went inside, but not getting in line.

“What is he doing?”

“I think Bucky has a special friend.” Sam teases, leaving the rest of the car to start theorizing.

          You put your apron on the rack as you get the text that Bucky was here. You see the car full of avengers pull up. Quickly fixing any smudges of makeup and fly-away hairs, you walked away from the counter. His mouth grows into a huge smile as he catches glimpses of you from outside. He takes your hands, bringing them to his lips, kissing them gently.

“Hi, darling.” His voice had softened since seeing you, losing the low grumble he usually has with the team. You truly bring out the inner softy in him.

“Hi,” You match his softness. He pulls you into a tight hug, remembering why he was even visiting you at work.

“How long before I get to hug you again?” You mumble against his chest. He kisses the top of my head pulling away, but not letting go of your waist.

“Three weeks, but I’m hoping for two.” Your face sinks into a pout, he moves his hands to cup your face. Slightly squishing it, causing him to giggle.

“You know your friends are looking,” You see past him, their eyes are glued to the two of you.

“He does have a girlfriend!” Nat shouts, they all watch as Bucky embraces you and kisses your hands.

“That sneaky bastard.” Clint laughs. Sam and Steve nod in approval as Bucky stares back at them.

Looking back at you, Bucky states,

“It’s okay, I knew we couldn’t hide it for much longer. They were getting suspicious about who was making me smile.” You grin at the thought of being able to get past, what left like vibranium, walls that the super solider had built up.

“I’m going to miss you so much; I’ll call as much as I can.” He looks at you with the most tender eyes. You nod,

“I’ll be counting on it.” You say in a warning tone. Instead of planting a kiss on your head, Bucky places the kiss on your lips. You kiss him back, soaking it all up before he pulls away.

“I’ll see you when you get home!” He smiles and nods, preparing for all the questions he was about to receive when he reentered the car.