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howcouldmuffin · 4 months ago

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Dreaming.

You know that falling in love makes you feel like a fool, but what if it’s him?

PAIRING : Jacearys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon

AN : I was inspired by the song “Kingston” by Faye Webster. Her music is amazing, and the way she describes falling in love is so lovely to me. Although it may not perfectly match the song, I hope you like it.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

Everyone in Westeros is aware of the long-standing conflict between the Greens and the Blacks. The king is well aware of this issue too, but he hasn’t been able to resolve it, so the problem continues to persist.

You know the Velaryon siblings very well, having grown up under the same roof as them. While your mother’s influence might have made many think that you were not close, children often don’t see things the same way as adults. They, along with your siblings, were raised to constantly compete with each other, enemies by birth. But after they moved to Dragonstone, everything seemed to calm down.

As the years passed, you grew into a princess of great honor, more graceful than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. You possess every desirable quality, and people often compare you to a combination of Visenya and Rhaenys in a single woman. Such praise could easily lead to vanity, but you know well that these words are nothing more than the desires of those who speak them.

“I’ve heard that Rhaenyra has arrived.” you say as you open the door to Helaena’s chamber. “Will you join me? Mother is likely busy in the small council.” She is preoccupied with your nieces and nephews, and at their age, they are quite a handful.

“I’m sorry, but my children are being quite a handful right now.” she says, confirming the scene before you. The children are getting ready for their bath, and it looks like it will take a while. You decide to help your sister manage her lively brood.

“Who here is being a good child?” you ask as you lift up one of the boys. “Is it you, Jaehaerys, or is it you, Jaehaera?” The children are usually well-behaved around you, and they listen to you quite obediently.

“I am!” the boy answers.

“Well, good children don’t make their mother tired, okay? That goes for you too, young lady.” Both nod in agreement and follow their maid to go take their bath.

“Thank you so much, sister.” Helaena says as she walks over to you. “It would have been even more chaotic without you.”

“You’re welcome, but I should be going now.” you reply, kissing her cheek before leaving the room and making your way down the corridors of the Red Keep.

The decorations here have likely changed since your eldest sister last saw them. Religious symbols now adorn the walls of the building. At times, you don’t agree with what your mother has done, filling the place with the beliefs of your family’s old traditions.

“Your Grace.” you curtsy to the pair as you approach.

“I apologize for not being there to welcome you. I only just heard that you arrived, and Mother is likely preoccupied with the small council meeting,” you explain. Rhaenyra immediately embraces you. Despite your mother’s dislike for her, you are not your mother. Her attempts to separate you have no effect if you refuse to adopt her views.

“I have already received a warm welcome from you.” Rhaenyra smiles as she releases you from her embrace and takes your hand.

“Only from you, niece.” Daemon adds.

“You must be tired from your journey. I think you should rest first.” you suggest.

“My husband and I will visit Father first.” she responds. “and I have someone I want you to meet.” She lifts up a young Targaryen boy while another child is carried by a maid.

“This is Aegon, and this is Viserys.”

“So these are my nephews, my little princes.” you say, taking Viserys from the maid. “They have grown so well.” Both boys have the silvery-golden hair of dragons and possess the regal presence of true princes of Westeros.

“Jace and Luke mentioned they would be heading to the practice yard if you wish to see them.” she adds. Your dear nephews, you wonder how much they’ve grown. You hand Viserys back to the maid after kissing his cheek, then turn to your sister.

“In that case, I’ll take my leave, Your Grace.” They both nod in acknowledgment.

You leave the area and head straight to the practice yard. You and Jacaerys are the same age, while Lucerys is a year younger than you. You Daeron and Jacaerys were all nursed by the same wet nurse, which is why you and your twin brother are closer to them than to others in the family.

After a short walk, you find the stairs leading to the training yard. You catch a glimpse of your brother Aemond, who is also there. Over the years, you have tried to encourage him to let go of his grudge, knowing that he once experienced the same mistreatment as our nephews. You hope he may have come to some understanding.

“Welcome, dear nephews.” you say as Jace and Luke turn to see you, their faces showing a mix of nostalgia as they remember the place where they once lived.

They have grown so much, the boys you once knew have become handsome young men, true princes. As soon as they see you, they rush to embrace you, and you return the gesture. They are still as endearing as ever.

“How was your journey?” you ask them.

As you pull away from the hug, you notice how their handsomeness has only increased. Jacaerys, in particular, possesses a beauty that seems straight out of the fairytales you once read. Your heart races, pounding in your chest.

“It went smoothly.” Jace replies. “You’ve grown so much.”

“And even more beautiful.” Luke adds, making you all laugh together. The moment brings back memories of when you were all young and oblivious to the complexities of the world.

“I wish you the best in the judgment, Luke.” you say, taking your younger nephew’s hand. “I will speak with my mother and my grandfather on your behalf.”

“Thank you so much, Princess.” he smiles back at you.

“It seems there’s a family gathering I wasn’t invited to.” your brother Aemond’s raspy voice breaks in. He walks over, and you notice Lucerys’s discomfort. To prevent any tension, you step in front of him, silently urging Aemond not to start anything.

“Are you here to train, nephews?” Aemond asks.

Before anyone can respond, Vaemond Velaryon, another claimant to Driftmark, appears. His presence is intimidating, and he seems to harbor little fondness for your two nephews. You silently pray that the gods favor your nephews over him.

“I apologize for being late, Your Grace.” you said, curtsying before taking your seat. Before dinner, you had so many things on your mind that you lost track of time in the bath, and by the time Nora came to fetch you, it was already late.

“A princess should know the importance of being punctual.” Alicent scolded you.

“It’s alright. Children always have many things on their minds.” your father said. “Go ahead, take your seat.” You nodded at your father and made your way to the empty seat beside Aemond. Helaena smiled at you, and you noticed Jacaerys watching you as well. He had been the reason you had been thinking about him all day.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems.” Viserys continued. “I announce here that my youngest daughter will marry my grandson, Jace. I have made my decision, and I ask you all to accept it.” Your father's declaration left the entire room in silence, including you.

You could hardly believe what you had just heard. You looked over at Jacaerys, who was already looking at you. Although you felt a small twinge of joy, the suddenness of the announcement left you stunned. Your mother's displeasure was immediately evident on her face. Viserys slowly stood and shared his thoughts.

People began to rise and speak, but you couldn’t focus on anything else. You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to feel.

“Sister.” your brother called. “Congratulations on your engagement.” Aemond spoke with a hint of amusement, knowing well that you never saw yourself ending up as a wife solely meant to bear children. But if it was Jacaerys...

“How should I feel?” you asked him.

“Be happy, at least he’s not like our eldest brother, sister.” he replied, surprising you. You expected him to mock or tease you, but instead, he offered you encouragement.

“Do you not resent them anymore?”

“I promised you before they arrived that I wouldn’t do anything to stir up trouble between us.” he replied. “I’m trying.” You raised your glass to toast to your brother's words, appreciating his sincerity.

The music played beautifully, and your mother seemed to have composed herself, while others engaged in lively conversation with those seated around them. Before long, Jacaerys stood and invited Helaena to dance with him. You felt a pang of envy as you watched them together—wasn’t he your betrothed?

“Has Daeron sent any news?” your brother beside you asked.

“He’s been training as usual, more diligently than ever.” you replied. “He asked me to thank you for the new book you sent him.” Although you were speaking to your brother, your eyes remained fixed on your newly betrothed. He was handsome, and the sudden betrothal your father had arranged had left your mind unsettled.

“Are you jealous?” your brother interrupted again. “Shall we dance together like they are?”

Your brother had been acting strange lately, starting from yesterday, today, and even now. Although he had promised, his behavior was beyond what you had expected.

“What do you want, brother?” you asked him seriously. “Are you planning to use me as a tool to hurt them?”

“You’re overthinking, sister.” he replied. “Wouldn’t it be better if I were to make friends with another heir to the Iron Throne?”

“Let’s hope that’s true.” you said, offering him your hand. “Don’t leave me behind. My feet are sore.”

The dinner proceeded smoothly, with everyone seeming to be one big happy family. You hoped this friendship would endure and not be shattered.

You closed the door to your room and hurried over to your writing desk. There were so many things from today that you wanted to record and reflect upon. You thought about the conversation you had with Jace today, your heart pounding at the memory. You hoped he hadn’t noticed. Your face had flushed, and you couldn’t meet his eyes. You knew what this feeling was—you were falling in love with him. How could it be so simple?

Should you write to your twin about this? What advice would he give you? Or perhaps you should share this with Helaena, though she was likely busy with your nieces and nephews. In the end, you decided to jot it down in your personal journal, a simple and safe choice.

After trying to fall asleep in the darkness of your room, you realized it was no use. You couldn’t sleep. Perhaps a walk, like you often did, would help calm your thoughts. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the corridors of the Red Keep. The moon tonight was beautiful, and you stopped to gaze at it from a window, its light bright and close.

“Princess.” Jacaerys' voice startled you, nearly causing you to gasp out loud.

“Prince.” you curtsied, and he bowed in return.

“Are you unable to sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep.”

“You must be worried about our betrothal.” he replied. “I swear on my honor, I will not dishonor you, Princess.”

“I will do the same.” you replied. The two of you stood there, looking at each other, and you found yourself at a loss for words. If it had been anyone else, you would have no trouble striking up a conversation, but with him, you were suddenly too anxious.

“I think we should both return to our rooms, Princess.” he said finally. “If you don’t mind, I’ll escort you back.” You nodded in agreement, and as you led the way, he followed at a slow pace.

When you reached your door, you realized it was time to bid him goodnight. You stopped, turned to face him, and gathered the courage to meet his gaze. His eyes were so beautiful, and you wondered if he could see how red your face was.

“Goodnight, my Prince.”

“Goodnight.” He remained where he stood, not turning to leave. You opened the door to your room and closed it slowly. He would leave after you shut the door, you assumed. Your hand clutched at your chest, feeling your heart hammering as if it would burst out of your body. Your hands were trembling. This must be the beginning of that foolishness you had always heard about.

You were overjoyed when your sister said she would be staying here longer. It meant you could spend more time getting to know your betrothed and spending time with him. The activities you often did alone now had him joining you. You talked about matters of the kingdom, the families allied with yours, the histories of different dragons, or even trivial things.

For you, it was wonderful to spend time with him. There were days when the two of you talked until you fell asleep together. When your mother found out about this, she scolded you intensely, speaking about propriety and how others might perceive it. You were confined to your room for an entire week.

But Jacearys surprised you with the secret passage in your room. You wondered if there were passages like this all over the castle. He used that secret passage to visit you while you were locked in your room. You thought about how much effort he must have put in just to talk to you, and it made you think about him even more, falling in love with him all over again.

“So, how was practice today?” you asked him. “Did Ser Criston bother you again?” You were lying on the bed reading a book while he leaned against the headboard, staring at you.

“He seems to have stopped. Aemond kept him away from us.” he replied. You knew well that Criston didn’t seem to like Rhaenyra or her children, but it wasn’t good to pass that dislike onto others.

You closed your book and slowly sat up, crawling to sit beside him. Jace shifted slightly to give you more room. You rested your head on his shoulder, holding hands. One of his arms draped over your shoulder. Life here must have been hard for him—the stares from everyone, the words he often heard.

“I want to go to Dragonstone.”

“Then you’ll have to marry me and go live there with me.” you said, turning to look at the prince. He smiled slightly.

“And if I don’t marry you? Can’t I just go?”

“Wouldn’t you want us to go together, just the two of us?” Jacaerys leaned closer. You looked at him without blinking, and finally, your lips met slowly. He gently slipped his tongue into your mouth, teasing yours as if to savor every bit of sweetness from you.

After a while, the two of you pulled away, gazing into each other’s eyes before laughing together. Jace leaned in again to kiss your cheek.

Now you know what your desire is from here on out. No longer will you need to sleep to recall your dreams, because now your life feels like a dream, and you’ll be living in it forever.

#‧⁺◟ lyn writing table *•#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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pseudowho · 9 months ago

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Operation: Babymaker-- Ditch the Party...again

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

It's a beautiful day for a party, and Kento is a naughty, naughty goose drunk 🪿💛

And...LINK HERE to the original Ditch the Party

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink 💛

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"Kento! Are you nearly done? We've got to go!" You leaned out of the bathroom, smirking at Kento and the scrutinising eyes he ran over your niece's expertly wrapped birthday present.

Kento grumbled, mildly offended; "'Nearly done'," he scoffed, "as if I'd leave it to the last minute. It's been wrapped for a week." You padded over to him, pleased with your gift choices; a knight's costume (complete with sword and shield) and a glittery nail polish set.

"I can't believe she's five already," you crooned, fingers grazing over her gift, wistful. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kento smiled into your hair.

"I can't wait," he hummed, the prospect of parenthood filling him with fizzy excitement.

You looked up at him with sternly pinched lips, and an unwavering memory of your last badly-behaved-Kento party attendance; "Well, you'll have to wait. It's child-friendly today. The strongest thing going past your lips is pink lemonade."

You headed towards the door. Kento had the absolute audacity to look at you with total innocence.

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"Happy birthda-- oh, she's gone."

Leaning down to hug the birthday girl, your niece, was futile-- she darted away laughing, slippery as an eel, into the maelstrom of other children, several dozen boys and girls her own age who had taken over the garden.

The obnoxiously loud party music, screeching kids on the bouncy castle, bustling parents making awkward small-talk, and flamboyant party entertainers turned the scene into a sensory nightmare. You felt Kento lean close, his smooth voice grazing your ear.

"I'll get us a drink, shall I?"

Before you could turn and beg to go with him, he was gone, weaving back to the kitchen with a sly look in his eye. Other parents stepped back from you, the currently child-free sacrifice, and you were as a gazelle on the Sahara.

"Tag, YOU'RE IT--"

You squeaked as a child slapped your thigh, promptly sprinting away. You smirked, tying back your hair, ready to be the cool auntie.

Ready to be IT.

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Kento strolled through your sister's kitchen, nodding politely to the horde of strangers, catching your sister's eye and being beckoned over. She looked sweaty, and harangued, but happy.

"Kento! Drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled around behind her, scooping a ladle into an enormous crystal dish of juice, "Here, you'll need this, I promise. It's not that strong--"

Kento wasn't listening as two big red cups were pushed into his hands, and stared instead out of the window into the garden, his gaze meltingly soft and adoring.

He watched you, hair up, dewy in the Spring sun, laughing as you darted after squealing children. His chest burst, his head a montage of you and him and a fantasy child. Kento sighed, and took a generous swig of juice, thirsty after your long drive. He raised his fine eyebrows, glancing down into the cup.

"I don't normally like juice," he said aloud to your sister, who offered him a guilty little smile, "but this has something about it."

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Panting, and being congratulated by your watch for completing a good workout, you lolloped away from the crowd of children, who had now mercifully abandoned you for a live magician.

"Where is that man," you pondered aloud to yourself, as you poured yourself a glass of lemonade in the kitchen, "who promised me a dri-- oh!"

You slopped lemonade down your arm with a squeak of surprise, as strong arms wrapped around your waist, a wet kiss being pressed behind your ear.

"Kento! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left me," you teased, wriggling away to wash your arms at the sink. Kento hovered behind you, predatory in his affections.

"Leave you?" He began, low and sultry, "How could I possibly, when you taste so--"

Kento was interrupted, your mother leaning past him to give you a kiss. As you spoke with her, you reapplied your lipstick, and Kento felt a wicked lick of heat in his belly, all inhibitions thrown out of the window after three large cups of 'juice'.

Your mother left, and you turned to drape your arms around Kento's neck, ready to be held at arm's length in accordance with his strict ick towards public affection. With a jolt of surprise, you felt his arms lock behind your waist instead, holding you flush against his body, his light slacks and summer shirt (why was his tie loose? how were the top three buttons suddenly undone?) leaving little to the imagination.

"That colour suits you," Kento whispered, husky as his eyes flicked down to your lips, one thumb coming up to slowly brush your bottom lip down, shuddering at the lipstick coming off onto his skin, "but it would suit my cock much better, don't you think?"

You blushed furiously, trying to battle your way out of his arms as he chuckled against your decollete. Your frantic eyes spotted the punch bowl, your sister-- from whom drinks should never be accepted-- and a series of empty cups.

You stuttered up at Kento, feeling yourself throb against your will as his tongue darted across his lips, smearing the lipstick residue on his thumb onto his neck instead. You began to hiss at him, berating, squirming against him to release yourself from his arms.

Kento groaned into you, and you clapped your hands over your face to hide your blush; "Keep that up," he threatened, low and laughing, "and I might just have to tie you up before I cum in my--"

You dropped out of his arms, wiggling under them and whipping your head round to check for other people, before pointing a finger at him. You mimed zipping your lips, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, and Kento felt his cock twitch at you telling him off. You had backed away, but Kento smirked, lopsided, and slowly loped towards you, eyes hungry, backing you into a corner.

"Tag, you're it!" A little hand batted at Kento's leg, and he flipped smoothly, spinning and jogging off into the garden after your niece. You stood, red faced, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, and wondering where to hide to cover your sha--

"You alright? Looking a bit..." Your brother-in-law walked into the kitchen, and finished weakly, unsure if he was about to inadvertently insult you. You smiled, flapping your hand at him.

"Hot," you gasped, "running round after this lot!" He smiled appreciatively, offering you a cup of your sister's deadly punch. You took a swig before holding it away from your lips, coughing.

"What the hell did she put in this?" You sputtered. Your brother-in-law looked sheepish, at least, on his wife's behalf.

"Everything, I think," he apologised, "Kento likes it, anyway--"

"Oh, he would," you snipped, before excusing yourself to the garden. Unable to spot Kento amongst the knights and princesses, your neck prickled, feeling distinctly hunted.

Staring from treehouse, to bouncy castle, to little wooden playhouse, to game of tag, you raised your cup to your mouth, ready to chug a mouthful of Dutch courage-- and you felt a long-fingered, enormous hand pluck the cup out of your grasp from behind, hearing Kento release a hum of satisfaction as he drained your punch in one gulp.

"Gorgeous punch," Kento drawled, slipping one foot between yours and one arm round your waist, "let's dip your tits in it and I can suck it right off."

Without warning, Kento hooked one of your legs from under you as you squeaked at him, and he took the opportunity to heroically catch you before you fell to the ground.

A small cluster of parents looked over to you both. Kento dusted you off, smiling at you, and gently chastising; "you shouldn't drink so much at a children's party, darling."

Your jaw dropped. Wordlessly, Kento abandoned you and hopped onto the bouncy castle with your niece; you sputtered at the faintly judgemental looks from the mothers beside you. Mortified, you moved to the party food table, pretending to organise plates to hide how flushed your face was, and how you had to clamp your legs together to stop the throbbing.

Turning round once you had calmed down, you felt Kento's arms cage you in against the table, just like the last party, and you gaped up at him in mute horror. Kento maintained eye contact, brown eyes twinkling as he reached round you, picking up an eclair from a plate of party cakes.

"Cream-filled," whispered Kento, taking a languid bite, whipped cream pouring from the end facing you. Kento chewed, leaning close to you as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick cream off his lips, "my favourite."

You could have exploded, your whole body on fire with embarrassment and want. Nearby, your elderly great-aunt cooed as Kento appeared to lovingly offer you a bite of his pastry. You were silent, stunned; she reassured you.

"Don't mind me, dear, take a bite!"

"I'm-- I mean, uh--" you stuttered, and Kento smiled at your aunt, pulling you in sweetly by the hip.

"I think she's full, actually," Kento laughed with your aunt, smiling again as she walked off. Spinning back to face you, Kento's smile was gone and replaced by wolfish hunger again, "but not as full as you could be, all fucked-out on my cock, hmm?"

"Oh my god, Kento," you whimpered, face in your hands, now surrounded by children being invited to the table for lunch. Kento smiled, bending down to pass plates out, before pulling you aside again.

"Say it again," he growled, low and desperate, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long, "but next time, I want it because I'm pulling your hair."

You ran, positively melting, in dire need of a hiding spot. Zipping through the kitchen, past the living room, you rounded the corner into the hallway, finding the nearest cupboard, and darting in.

No sooner had you reached up, pulling a little string to switch the light on...than a hand, strong and determined, closed around the doorframe, pulling Kento into view. You felt faint, both hands pressed over your mouth to stop yourself from audibly gasping.

Kento never once took his eyes off you, stepping into the narrow shelved cupboard, and reaching up for the light pull. The last thing you saw before being plunged into darkness, was Kento removing his tie.

Your senses heightened, you smelled Kento's cologne before feeling his lips on your neck, shamelessly sucking you, tasting you. Kento groaned, loud and shuddering, and he laughed as you slapped him on the chest. You felt him thrust loosely against your belly.

"I love parties," Kento lied, and you scoffed.

"You hate parties, Kento, you just love--"

"Fucking you with words before squirrelling you away somewhere?" His mouth moved lower, shifting your shirt and bra aside to pull your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and sucking you just a little too hard, "Foreplay, darling."

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Kento's hair, his other hand making quick work of undoing your shorts. Idly slipping his hand inside and underneath your underwear, you bucked against his hand, Kento shivering with glee at your delicious wetness.

"Fuck yourself on my hand," he whispered, husky with restraint, "and we'll see who cums first, hmm? A little competition." You clapped a hand over your mouth as he curled two thick fingers inside you, so long that the edges tickled your cervix and you felt him in your belly.

The heel of Kento's hand pressed flush to your clit, and your hips stuttered as you rolled them against him, seeing stars with the friction, rutting down onto his fingers, holding him by the wrist.

Kento had already undone his trousers in the dark, and palmed his aching cock desperately inside his boxers. Whispering filth to you, sucking and releasing your breast into his mouth again and again with wet pops as he pinched your nipple between his lips, Kento wished he had more hands.

"Keep going-- fuck, good girl-- such a good girl--" he whispered, unable to stroke his cock for fear of cumming down your thigh, his head swimming with your velvety wet walls clenching around his fingers, using his hand as a toy to pleasure yourself.

Kento felt his high begin to creep down his spine, his balls clenching, biting lightly against your nipple and trying not to rip into you like a wild animal. As you felt your own orgasm creep closer, humping the heel of his hand, fucking his fingers as deep as they could reach for relief...Kento removed his hand with urgency.

"--can't-- can't hold back--" he shuddered, shunting down your underwear for better access, "--can't waste it--" Kento grabbed your hand, wrapping it round his twitching cock, and settled his weeping cockhead against your clit, keeping his other hand close.

Wrapping his fingers round yours, keeping himself pressed against your clit, Kento stroked himself fast, his groans building, until they tapered off into stuttering moans. You felt short, hot bursts of Kento's seed hit your clit, and fall into his other, waiting hand.

Kento shivered and swore to feel you rub his cockhead on your clit, using his cum as lube. He had gathered the rest of his cum, thick and white, on his fingers, and thrust them back inside you, not stopping until they grazed your cervix again. Positioning the heel of his palm against your clit again, Kento squeezed your thigh, pulling it forwards to encourage you to fuck his hand again.

You complied, Kento's seed giving you the lubrication you needed, pressing your aching pussy down around his fingers until you felt him deep in your belly again. Kento's mouth and other hand were full, busy with your breasts, kneading and massaging and pinching as he whispered encouragement to you.

"--got to cum-- suck it all up into you-- then I'll fuck it in even deeper--" Kento's drunk filth rolled off his tongue without a filter, going straight to your core, and your orgasm burned through you like wildfire.

Kento kissed you deeply, drinking your cries and whimpers down like liquor. Kento's strong hand thrust you through your ecstasy, feeling your pussy clench and suck against his fingers, leaving barely a trace of his cum behind.

Pulling his fingers out, Kento replaced his hand with his knee to keep you upright against the wall. In the dark, you blushed to hear the wet sucks of Kento licking his fingers clean.

"Ready?" He toned, low and devious.

"For wha--" With little warning, Kento lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pressing his half-hard cock into your pussy, still twitching from your recent orgasm.

Kento groaned into your neck, hot and squirming with overstimulation, letting your incoordinate shocked little thrusts suck his cock deeper, bringing it back to life. He felt himself twitch inside you, growing longer and harder as the blood rushed back.

Drunk on Kento's insistent need to fill you with his cum, you had tuned out the sounds of the party, letting Kento hold your weight and shuddering in delight as you felt his cock warm and swelling inside you. A change in the tone of voices beyond the cupboard snapped you to attention.

"Hide and seek!" cried a little voice in the garden, "You hide, and I'll count...one, two--" A flurry of little screams and footsteps came closer, into the house.

"Kento," you hissed panicking. Kento chuckled against your neck, rutting lazily into you, trembling with the bittersweet tang of overstimulation. Encouraging you to lock your hips round him, Kento looped his tie through the door handle, wrapping the tails around his hand and bringing it back to your arse you hold you up again.

"One more time," he moaned, suckling little red hearts into your skin, "I won't-- won't be long--"

Hearing Kento's wavering voice, so intoxicated by his need to fill you, you slipped two fingers down, shivering as you used the remnants of his cum to rub circles on your clit, deliberately squeezing your walls around Kento until he whimpered against you. Feeling you pleasure yourself around him had Kento reeling.

Kento began to lift you by the thighs, ramming you down onto his cock, now rock solid, and you muffled your squeals into his chest. You heard him growl, shuddering as you bit into his pecs, and it spurred him on to fuck you harder. Clinging on around his neck, Kento felt a rush of satisfaction as to your pussy quivered in response to his brutal pace.

"--so close--" he whined, his breaths hot and panting, fruity with the deadly punch that brought him to this, "--got to-- you first...fuck, so deep--" Kento's arms faltered, and you dropped deeper around his cock with a squeak, the jolt making you convulse with pleasure.

Kento came with a muted growl, biting into you, unable to press himself any deeper than he already was. Overtaken by the euphoria of feeling himself twitch and spurt inside you, hearing you trying to suppress your gasps, Kento thrust lazily into you, finally satisfied, panting as he came down from his high; you flopped against him, lost in delirious pleasure.

Your stomach dropped as you heard little voices outside the door. Kento held his tie taut as hands pulled at the handle, before declaring "it's locked!", the footsteps scurrying away. Kento chuckled into your neck, devious as you slapped at his chest again.

"You need to lie down," he whispered into you, helping you to dress yourself again, filled with anguish as he thought of his cum dripping out of you.

"I do need a lie down," you agreed, still giggling and love-drunk. Releasing the tie and taking you by the hand, Kento peered surreptitiously out of the doorway before spiriting you away to the living room. A set of little boys and girls, dressed incoordinately as princess-knights, sat playing with nail polish and make-up.

They looked up at you both as you approached, taking your rumpled appearances in as evidence of a really fun playtime.

Kento filled once more with wicked intent.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Lying back on the sofa with cucumber over your eyes, your lips were pursed as your niece plastered them with sparkly lipstick.

Kento sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, fingers splayed, nails now covered with nail polish of pink and red and gold and--

"Where did they get this cucumber?" You asked, sniffing, frowning. Kento's jaw twitched, answering after thanking a blushing little girl for her wonderful manicure.

"Sandwiches."

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 1 month ago

Note

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

#x reader #dc x reader #neutral reader #yan blog #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harleen quinn #batman #bruce wayne #dc joker #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #jon kent #catwoman #selina kyle #harley quinn x poison ivy #poison ivy

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marysfics · 2 months ago

Text

Spinning on Vinyl

''You remind me of a song that I can't seem to skip''

Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff

The apartment feels eerily quiet without her. The kind of quiet that presses in on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been alone here—Alexia has always been traveling for matches, for training camps, for endless commitments that took her far away from this small, shared space. But tonight, it feels different. Heavier.

You glance at the half-empty wine glass sitting beside you on the floor, untouched for a while now. The rich, red liquid doesn’t hold the same allure it did an hour ago when you first poured it, hoping it might numb the ache growing steadily in your chest. But wine can’t drown out everything, and it certainly can’t drown out memories.

In a slow, deliberate motion, you reach over to the vinyl record player resting on the shelf. The same one the two of you had found in some vintage shop on one of those rare days when Alexia wasn’t rushing to the next match or the next media appearance. You remember her smile when she saw it, how she picked it up with delicate hands, her eyes lighting up like a child’s. She had said it reminded her of her childhood, of Sundays spent with her family listening to old records, the music mingling with the smell of her mother’s cooking.

Now, the player feels like a relic of something lost—something you’re trying desperately to hold on to, even as it slips through your fingers. The needle touches the vinyl, and the first crackle fills the room. The static noise that used to sound comforting, like a prelude to something magical, now feels like the space between you and her. Thin, fragile, barely holding it all together.

The music begins, soft and slow, an old song that you both loved. It was the kind of melody that wrapped around you like a blanket, pulling you into each other’s arms without a word. You close your eyes, sinking into the sound, letting it carry you back to a time when everything felt simpler. Back when Alexia was yours—not just in fleeting moments, but truly yours.

The bassline vibrates through the room, echoing in the emptiness, and you can almost hear her voice in your head, low and soft, singing along under her breath as she always did. You smile faintly at the memory of it—the way she used to sing off-key just to make you laugh. She wasn’t a performer, not in that way. She saved her grace for the pitch, but in these quiet moments, she was unguarded, playful, completely at ease.

God, how long has it been since you’ve seen her like that?

Your eyes drift to the framed photos on the wall. There’s one of the two of you, her arm slung around your shoulder, both of you grinning at the camera after one of her games. Her jersey is still drenched in sweat, hair messy from the action, but her eyes—her eyes were on you. You remember the moment clearly. It was the first time she’d kissed you in public, right there in front of the cameras, after she scored the winning goal. She had pulled you close, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring something in your ear that made you laugh, but now you can’t remember what she said. Just the feeling it left behind, warm and safe.

But that warmth has faded, replaced by the cold void of her absence.

The vinyl continues to spin, the needle gliding effortlessly through the grooves. Each note feels like a heartbeat, each lyric a whisper of something lost. You don’t even try to stop the memories now—they flood your mind, unrelenting, filling every corner of your thoughts with her.

You can picture her so clearly. The way she used to curl up on the couch after a long day, her legs tucked beneath her, that soft smile on her face as you laid beside her. The smell of her shampoo, something fresh and clean, the way her hair would fall into her eyes when she was too tired to push it back. The sound of her laughter—low, almost raspy, but full of life. You can still hear it, like an echo bouncing off the walls, even though it’s been weeks since you last heard it in person.

God, it’s been weeks.

You glance at your phone again, your thumb hovering over her name. It feels like it’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to press call, or send a message, or do anything that might pull her back to you. But you can’t. You haven’t. The space between your last conversation and now feels too wide, too difficult to cross with just a text.

She’s always somewhere else. Even when she’s here, she’s always got one foot out the door, ready for the next game, the next match, the next chapter of her story that you’re barely a part of anymore. It wasn’t always like this, though. Once, there was balance. There was her, and there was you, and it felt like the two of you existed in this beautiful harmony, like two notes perfectly in sync. Now, it’s as if you’re playing different songs, neither of you willing to change the tune.

The music picks up, the tempo quickening, but it doesn’t bring comfort. If anything, it reminds you how things have been moving too fast. How her career is growing and expanding in every direction, while you feel like you’re standing still, watching from the sidelines.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

You never wanted to be a spectator in her life. You wanted to be a part of it, truly part of it, not just someone she comes home to when the world isn’t watching. But lately, that’s all you’ve been—someone who waits, who watches, who wonders if there’s still space for you in her world.

The song swells, and with it, so does the ache in your chest. You lean your head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, letting the music wash over you. You focus on the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in it, trying to forget the gnawing emptiness that seems to grow with every passing day.

But you can’t forget her. You never could.

The song changes, a softer melody now, and with it comes the familiar pull of nostalgia. You know what’s coming next. This was your song—the one you and Alexia always danced to, barefoot in the kitchen, her hands on your hips, your head resting on her shoulder. The first time she heard it, she’d laughed, pulling you into her arms without hesitation, spinning you around as if no one was watching. You’d laughed, too, feeling weightless, like the rest of the world didn’t exist beyond that moment.

The memory is so vivid, you can almost feel her now. The heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her breath would ghost across your neck as she whispered something silly, something that would make you giggle, even though the moment was already perfect. She’d twirl you around, her fingers never leaving your waist, like you were the only thing tethering her to the ground.

You open your eyes and sigh, the weight of it all pulling you back to reality.

But there’s no Alexia here. Just the music. Just the memories. Just you.

The room fades around you, swallowed up by the growing intensity of the music. The song on the record shifts, and with it comes a memory so vivid it pulls you in before you can stop it. It’s one of the earliest memories you have of her, back when things were new and easy. Back when every look, every touch felt electric, charged with possibility.

It was your first time at one of her games. You remember the nerves—the restless energy in your stomach, unsure of what to expect. Sure, you’d seen Alexia play on TV, heard her name shouted in crowded rooms, but watching her from a distance was nothing compared to being there in person, seeing her live in her element, where she shined brightest.

The stadium was a sea of faces, all of them there for her, but you felt like the only one who mattered. There, in the cold evening air, with your heart beating faster than it should, you found your seat and waited, the anticipation growing with every passing minute.

The moment she stepped onto the pitch, everything else fell away.

Alexia was magnetic. There was no other way to describe it. The way she moved—so effortlessly, so fluid—it was like watching art in motion. Each step was deliberate, each pass precise. It wasn’t just a game to her. It was something deeper, something that coursed through her veins like it was what she was made for. She owned the field, commanding it with a quiet intensity, and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. You didn’t want to.

For the first few minutes, you were just another face in the crowd, just another fan cheering her name. But then it happened. That moment when she looked up, searching the stands, and her eyes found yours.

It was like time stopped.

You froze, breath catching in your throat, heart hammering against your ribs. Alexia smiled—a soft, private smile that didn’t belong to the roaring crowd or the flashing cameras. It was yours, and yours alone. And in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Not the game, not the people, not the pressure that came with being Alexia Putellas. Just her and you, sharing a moment that felt sacred in a sea of chaos.

You could still remember how your chest tightened at the sight of her. The way your pulse quickened as she ran down the field, weaving between defenders, her eyes sharp, focused, a silent determination etched on her face. Every movement was so deliberate, so graceful, like she was painting something only she could see. And every time she touched the ball, it felt like a promise—a promise that she would win, for you, for both of you.

As the game wore on, the energy in the stadium shifted, growing more intense with every passing minute. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, their voices rising with the action on the pitch. But you weren’t focused on the game. You were focused on her.

You could see the exhaustion starting to creep into her movements, the weight of the match bearing down on her. But she didn’t slow down. She pushed harder, her body moving with a fierce determination that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Because you knew—somewhere deep down—you knew she wasn’t just fighting for the win. She was fighting for you. For this. For the life she was trying to balance between the demands of her career and the fragile, growing thing between you.

Then it happened.

A breakaway.

Alexia darted through the defense, her eyes locked on the goal. The crowd surged around you, their voices a tidal wave of anticipation, but all you could hear was your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you watched her close in on the moment. It was as if the world had narrowed to just her and the ball, and then—

She struck.

The sound of the ball hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but you heard it. You felt it. It was victory—sharp, sweet, and undeniable. The stadium erupted around you, people leaping to their feet, cheering her name. And amidst it all, she turned, her eyes finding yours once again, that same soft smile tugging at her lips.

It was for you. The goal, the smile, the unspoken promise between you—it was all for you.

You stood, your legs trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. It was impossible not to be swept up in her energy, in the joy radiating from her like sunlight after a long storm. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch you. Like you were invincible, riding the high of her victory as if it were your own.

After the game, you lingered by the stadium entrance, waiting for her. The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat that still pulsed in your veins. The minutes stretched on, each one a little heavier than the last, until finally, you saw her.

She emerged from the locker room, still in her kit, her hair damp from the shower, strands falling into her eyes in that careless way you loved so much. Her cheeks were flushed, not from exertion but from the glow of the win, her confidence radiating like a halo around her.

When she spotted you, her face softened, the sharp edges of the competitive athlete melting away. She was just Alexia again. Your Alexia.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice low and a little rough from the match. There was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, like she was unsure of what came next, even after all that had passed between you during the game. “Did you—?”

“You were amazing,” you cut her off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Like…breathtaking.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, that crooked smile that always made your heart skip a beat. She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours in that familiar, gentle way that was more intimate than anything else. Her fingers curled around yours, and you squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her grip from the adrenaline that still hadn’t faded.

“I wanted you to see this,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “I wanted you to understand…this part of me.”

You nodded, unable to find the right words to respond. Because how could you explain to her that you didn’t just understand this part of her—you loved it? You loved all of her, even the parts that scared you, the parts that took her away from you for weeks at a time. You loved the way she poured her soul into her sport, the way she gave everything, even when there was nothing left for herself.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “So proud.”

Alexia’s hand tightened around yours, her eyes softening with something that looked like relief. “Thank you,” she breathed, her forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m proud of you too.”

You smiled at that, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. In that moment, it didn’t matter that the rest of the world was watching her, or that her life was so much bigger than you could ever be. All that mattered was this—her, you, and the quiet understanding that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

But now, sitting here, listening to the vinyl spin, the memory feels bittersweet. Because somewhere along the way, the promise you’d felt that night slipped through your fingers. The connection that had felt so solid, so unbreakable, had started to fray at the edges, pulled thin by the relentless demands of her career, by the endless distance that seemed to grow between you.

And even though you told yourself it would be enough—her love, her smiles, the quiet moments you stole between the chaos—you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing now. That maybe, just maybe, the space between you has become too wide to cross.

The soft hum of the vinyl fades into the background as your thoughts drift, wandering through the memories you’ve been holding onto so tightly. It's strange how the things that once brought you so much comfort—like the music, the photos, the laughter you once shared—now weigh heavy on your chest, like they’re relics of something you can’t quite touch anymore.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Alexia. Weeks of lonely nights spent with your phone in your hand, wondering if you should call, if you should say something—anything—to bridge the ever-widening distance between you. But every time you pull up her name, your thumb hovering over the screen, something stops you.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear that the space between you has grown too vast to close with a simple text. Or maybe it’s the nagging doubt that’s been creeping in lately—the doubt that maybe you’re not enough for her anymore. Not enough to compete with the whirlwind that is her life, her career, her success.

You hate thinking that way. You hate feeling like you’re waiting in the wings of her life, a spectator in a relationship that once made you feel so alive. But you can’t shake the sensation that you’re slowly being left behind, even though you’re desperately trying to hold on.

The apartment feels colder now, as if the memories of her have seeped out of the walls, leaving only emptiness in their wake. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the blanket tighter as if that might somehow fill the void she’s left behind. But it doesn’t. It never does.

She’s always on your mind. Even when you’re not actively thinking about her, she lingers in the back of your thoughts like a half-finished melody. You can hear her laugh, see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, feel the warmth of her hand slipping into yours. But those memories feel so far away now, like they belong to someone else—someone who existed in a time when things were simpler, when you weren’t questioning every unreturned text, every missed call.

You try to tell yourself that it’s just temporary, that this is just a rough patch. After all, Alexia has always had a demanding schedule. It’s part of who she is, part of what makes her so extraordinary. You knew that from the beginning—knew that she would always be pulled in a thousand different directions. But back then, it didn’t feel like a threat. Back then, it felt like you could weather anything, as long as you had each other.

But now… now, it feels different.

The record clicks as the needle reaches the end, the soft static filling the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sit up, the sudden silence amplifying the emptiness you’ve been trying to ignore all night. The apartment feels too big without her, too quiet, and the loneliness presses in around you, suffocating.

You reach for your phone again, your hand trembling slightly as you scroll through the messages. Her name is at the top, of course. There are texts from her—short, sweet messages telling you she misses you, that she can’t wait to come home. You read them over and over, hoping that somehow they’ll soothe the ache in your chest. But they’re not enough.

Because you want more than just texts. You want her. You want her here, beside you, her arms wrapped around you, her voice soft in your ear as she tells you about her day. You want the little moments—the mornings spent tangled in the sheets, the evenings spent cooking dinner together, the quiet laughter that filled the spaces between words. You want all of her, not just the parts that she can give when she’s not busy being someone else’s hero.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the weight of it all pressing down on you. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way, but it’s never been this intense before. The doubt, the longing, the frustration—it’s all building up inside you, threatening to spill over. You don’t know how much longer you can keep it all inside.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, typing out a message you’ve written a hundred times before.

"I miss you."

Three simple words. Words you’ve said to her countless times, but now, they feel heavier than ever. You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. Part of you hopes that this will be the message that changes things, that maybe she’ll respond with something that will make all of this feel worth it. But another part of you—the part that’s been growing louder and more insistent—wonders if sending this message will only serve to highlight the growing gap between you.

Because as much as you miss her, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s getting used to life without you.

That thought hits you harder than you expect, a cold rush of fear flooding your chest. You’ve been trying so hard to stay positive, to tell yourself that things will get better, that this is just a temporary phase. But the truth is, you don’t know that for sure. You don’t know what’s going through her mind when she’s out there, traveling from one city to the next, surrounded by people who worship her, who don’t see the side of her that you do. The side that’s vulnerable, that’s unsure, that needs someone to ground her.

And that’s the part that scares you the most. Because what if she doesn’t need you anymore?

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay where they are. You’re not ready to face that possibility. Not yet.

But as the silence stretches on, broken only by the faint crackle of the record player, you start to wonder if maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe all those little moments you’ve been holding onto, all those memories you’ve been replaying in your mind, are just that—memories. Moments that belong to the past, not the future.

You stand up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you make your way to the window. The city outside is alive, bustling with people, with life, but you feel so far removed from it all. You lean your forehead against the cool glass, staring out at the lights below. It’s strange how the world keeps moving, even when it feels like yours is standing still.

You wonder what Alexia is doing right now. Whether she’s thinking about you, too, or if she’s wrapped up in her world, too busy to notice the growing distance. You want to believe that she misses you as much as you miss her, but the longer this silence stretches between you, the harder it is to hold onto that belief.

Another message from her lights up your phone, and your heart skips a beat. You glance down at the screen, hoping for something more than the usual pleasantries. But it’s just a quick, “Training was tough today. I’ll call you tomorrow, love you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone as you read the words. Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll call, tomorrow you’ll talk, tomorrow things will be better. But tomorrow never comes, and you’re left here, waiting in the space between promises and reality.

You type out a quick reply—something supportive, something sweet, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been her anchor, her steady ground when everything else is chaos. But right now, you feel like you’re drifting, and you’re not sure how to find your way back.

The music starts again, the same song as before, its familiar melody wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace. You let the sound wash over you, filling the empty spaces where her voice should be, and for a moment, you allow yourself to sink into the feeling of it all—the longing, the love, the uncertainty.

Because that’s all you have right now.

The city lights blur through the window as you stand there, forehead still pressed against the cold glass, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You’ve spent so long in this space—this liminal place between hope and despair—that it’s starting to feel like home. A home you never wanted.

Your phone buzzes in your hand again, but this time, it’s not a message. It’s her.

Alexia.

The name lights up the screen, and for a moment, you just stare at it, heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t expecting her to call tonight—not after the brief message about tomorrow—but here she is, reaching out when you were least prepared.

Your thumb hesitates over the green button. Every muscle in your body feels tense, as if you’re holding your breath, unsure if you’re ready for this conversation. Because deep down, you know it’s not just going to be small talk this time. It can’t be. There’s too much unsaid between you now, too much that’s been left hanging in the silence.

With a shaky breath, you press accept.

“Hey,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you intended, almost fragile.

“Hey,” Alexia replies, and you can hear the weariness in her voice, the strain of a long day clinging to her like an invisible weight. There’s a pause, the quiet stretch of unspoken words filling the space between you, and for a second, you wonder if she can feel the tension too.

“How was training?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, though it feels like a thin veil over the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“Exhausting,” she admits with a sigh, “but that’s not really why I’m calling.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick. You can hear the seriousness in her tone, the shift that tells you this conversation isn’t going to be easy.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she continues, her voice quieter now, like she’s testing the waters. “About…everything.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over you. This is it. This is the conversation you’ve been avoiding, the one you’ve been dreading but also needing. Because no matter how much you’ve tried to pretend that things are fine, that this is just a rough patch, deep down you know that something has to change. You just don’t know if you’re ready to face what that change might look like.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to find the right words that won’t sound like accusations, like blame. “It’s just… it feels like we’re losing each other, Alexia.”

The words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. It’s the truth you’ve been holding back for so long, the fear that’s been gnawing at you in the quiet moments when she’s not around.

There’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you think maybe she didn’t hear you. But then she speaks, and her voice is full of something you didn’t expect: guilt.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice breaking slightly. “I know I haven’t been around as much, and I hate that. I hate that I’ve been making you feel like this, like I’m slipping away.”

You close your eyes, letting her words sink in. There’s something comforting in hearing her acknowledge it, in knowing that you’re not imagining the distance between you. But it doesn’t erase the ache in your chest, the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you for weeks.

“I don’t blame you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed. “I know how important your career is. I’ve always known. But sometimes it feels like... like I’m just waiting for you to have time for me. And it’s hard, Alexia. It’s really hard.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” she whispers, and there’s a heaviness in her voice that makes your heart clench. “I never wanted to make you feel like you’re not important. You are. You’re everything to me. It’s just—” She pauses, searching for the right words, the frustration clear in her tone. “It’s hard to balance everything. The games, the training, the travel… Sometimes I feel like I’m failing you, like I’m failing us.”

Her vulnerability catches you off guard. You can hear the strain in her voice, the cracks in the facade she’s been holding up for so long. She’s always been so strong, so composed, but now, hearing her admit that she’s struggling too, it hits you in a way you didn’t expect.

“I didn’t realize,” you murmur, your heart softening just a little. “I didn’t know it was so hard for you too.”

There’s another pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more tentative. “It’s just… I’m scared, you know? Scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that this—my life, my schedule, everything—is too much for you. That you’ll get tired of waiting for me, tired of not having me around when you need me.”

Her words hit you hard, because they echo the fears that have been swirling in your own mind. But hearing her say it, hearing the raw honesty in her voice, makes you realize that this isn’t just about you. It’s about both of you, trying to navigate a love that’s complicated by the realities of her career and the demands that come with it.

“I’m scared too,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared that one day, you’ll realize that maybe you don’t need me as much as you used to. That maybe your life is easier without trying to fit me into it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing down on both of you. But instead of making you feel more distant, it somehow makes you feel closer, like you’re both standing on the same edge, looking down at the same uncertain future.

“I do need you,” she says finally, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want a life where you’re not part of it. But I also know that I haven’t been showing you that. I know that I’ve been letting you down.”

You sit down on the edge of the couch, your heart pounding as her words settle over you. There’s a deep ache in your chest, but it’s mixed with something else now—something warmer, something that feels like hope.

“I miss you,” you say again, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I miss us. I miss what we used to have before everything got so... complicated.”

“I miss you too,” she replies, and there’s a rawness in her voice that makes your throat tighten. “I hate that I’ve been so far away, not just physically, but emotionally. And I don’t know how to fix it overnight, but I want to try. I need to try.”

The honesty in her words cracks something open inside you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Like you’re both acknowledging the distance between you, but also agreeing to fight for what you have.

“I don’t need everything to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That I’m not the only one holding on.”

“You’re not,” she promises, and there’s a steadiness in her voice now, a determination that wasn’t there before. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of her words sink in. It’s not a perfect solution, and you know there’s still a long way to go. But it’s a start. A step toward finding each other again, toward rebuilding the connection that’s been fraying at the edges.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

“I love you too,” Alexia replies, and this time, the words feel like a promise.

The next few days feel different.

There’s still the same space between you and Alexia—miles of distance, long hours, and time zones that never seem to align—but now, there’s something else. A thread, thin but unbreakable, pulling you closer together with every word exchanged. The tension that once filled the silence between you has eased, replaced by something softer, something that feels like hope.

She calls more often now. The messages come in with regularity—small updates on her day, pictures of sunsets and unfamiliar cities, jokes that make you smile in the quiet of your empty apartment. It’s not perfect. You still miss her, still feel the ache of wanting her beside you. But there’s a comfort in knowing that she’s trying, in knowing that she’s holding on just as tightly as you are.

It’s late one evening, almost midnight, when your phone buzzes again. You’re wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, the low hum of a record spinning in the background, when you see her name flash on the screen. It’s a video call this time.

Your heart flutters as you swipe to accept, the familiar chime of the call connecting filling the room. And then she’s there, her face filling the screen—messy hair, no makeup, her eyes soft with exhaustion but also warmth.

“Hi,” she says, her voice a little crackly through the phone, but it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“Hi,” you whisper back, your lips tugging into a smile. Just seeing her like this—raw, unguarded—makes you feel like the distance between you is shrinking, even if only for a moment.

“I miss your face,” Alexia murmurs, her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s not the same seeing you on a screen.”

You chuckle softly, curling deeper into the blanket. “Tell me about it. I’m starting to think I’ve forgotten what you look like in person.”

She lets out a small laugh, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that lingers. “Not for long, though.”

Your brow furrows, and before you can ask what she means, she shifts slightly, glancing at something off-camera. When she looks back, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, you know?” she starts, her tone soft but full of intent. “About what you said. About how we’ve been drifting. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to keep waiting for ‘tomorrow’ to fix things. I want to make it better now.”

Your heart speeds up, her words sinking in. “Alexia, I—”

“I’m coming home,” she interrupts, her voice steady and sure. “Tomorrow. No more delays, no more excuses. I’ve talked to the team, and I’m taking a break for a few days. I just want to be with you.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait—tomorrow?”

She nods, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be there by the afternoon. I know it won’t fix everything, but… I miss you. I need to be with you. We can figure the rest out together.”

The rush of emotion that washes over you is overwhelming. For so long, you’ve been holding onto the idea of her coming back, but it always felt like something just out of reach. And now, hearing her say it—hearing her make this promise—it feels real in a way that fills your chest with warmth.

“You’re really coming home?” you whisper, almost afraid to believe it.

“I am,” she says softly. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat, tears prickling at your eyes. “I think I can make room for you.”

Alexia’s smile widens, and there’s a lightness in her expression that you haven’t seen in weeks. “Good. Because I’ve missed your cooking. And I’m pretty sure I left one of my hoodies at your place, and I want it back.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a joy bubbling in your chest that you can’t contain. “I’ll think about it.”

The conversation continues, lighter now, filled with soft laughter and quiet jokes. For the first time in a long time, it feels easy again. The weight of the distance, the uncertainty, all of it starts to melt away as you talk about nothing and everything. The connection between you feels stronger, more tangible, and you hold onto it, refusing to let go.

When the call ends, the apartment feels a little less lonely. You curl up in bed, her promise echoing in your mind, and for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

The apartment feels warm the next day, glowing with a soft light from the fading afternoon sun that streams through the windows. It’s quiet, save for the gentle crackle of the vinyl spinning on the record player in the corner. You’d put it on earlier, a song that holds so many memories between the two of you. The room smells faintly of vanilla and clean linen, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a stillness in the air that brings peace instead of loneliness.

Alexia stands in front of you, her hand in yours, as you both sway softly to the rhythm of the song. You catch her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she pulls you closer, her other hand settling against the small of your back.

Neither of you says anything. You don’t need to.

There’s a tenderness in the silence between you now, a shared understanding that doesn’t need words. The conversation you’d had—the raw, vulnerable honesty—has left you both feeling lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And now, with her here, the familiar melody wrapping around you, everything feels right in a way it hasn’t for so long.

The song playing is slow and melodic, each note weaving through the room like it was made for this moment, for you and her. The kind of song you’d listened to on lazy Sunday mornings, back when time wasn’t something you worried about. Before the distance.

Alexia tightens her hold on you, her body pressing close as her forehead rests against yours. The gentle brush of her skin sends a shiver through you, but not from cold—from the quiet intensity of the moment, the electricity humming between you. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve felt this close to her, not just physically but emotionally.

You close your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her—something warm and soft, like home. The vinyl’s soft crackle and the quiet strumming of the guitar fill the air, creating a cocoon around you both.

“I missed this,” Alexia whispers, her breath brushing against your lips, her eyes still closed. “Just being here with you. Like this.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you lean into her, pressing your face into the curve of her neck. “I missed this too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, the emotions threatening to spill over.

For a while, you just sway like that, foreheads pressed together, hands resting on each other’s bodies. It’s a slow dance, the kind you fall into when time doesn’t matter, when the only thing that exists is the warmth of her touch and the steady rhythm of her breathing. The world outside feels distant, like it can’t reach you here, in this small bubble of peace you’ve found together.

The song shifts slightly, a new verse playing, and Alexia’s hand slowly slides up your back, her fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder before she gently lifts your chin to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, deep brown pools filled with something you haven’t seen in a while—a kind of certainty, a promise that she’s here, and she’s not leaving.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she says, her voice barely a whisper between the notes. “For making you feel like I was slipping away. I never meant to.” Her words are quiet but heavy, carrying the weight of all the moments that had felt so distant, so full of silence.

You shake your head softly, your forehead brushing against hers as you do. “We both made mistakes,” you reply, your voice gentle but firm. “But we’re here now, right? We’re fixing it.”

She nods, a small, grateful smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we are.”

The music continues to fill the room, the crackling of the vinyl blending with the soft melody of the song. Alexia’s arms wrap around you fully, pulling you against her chest, and you let your hands rest on her waist, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of her shirt.

Her breath slows, and for a moment, you can feel the beat of her heart through her chest, steady and sure, like it’s syncing with the rhythm of the song. There’s something so intimate about this—no grand gestures, no need for words—just the quiet presence of being with each other, of knowing that after everything, after all the distance and the doubts, you’ve both chosen to stay.

As the song winds down, the notes fading into the background, you look up at her, catching her gaze again. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability that mirrors your own, and before you can think twice, you lean in and press your lips to hers. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, full of all the unsaid things that have been building between you for so long. A kiss that speaks of forgiveness, of love, of the quiet promise that you’re not letting go.

When you pull back, Alexia’s smile is small but real, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I love you,” she whispers, the words full of warmth and certainty.

“I love you too,” you reply, the weight of the words settling comfortably between you, like they’ve found their rightful place again.

The vinyl spins to a stop, the quiet crackle filling the room as the music fades. But neither of you moves. You stay wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying gently to the rhythm of a song only the two of you can hear. The city outside hums with life, but in this moment, it’s just you and her, dancing in the quiet, letting the world melt away.

Alexia leans her forehead against yours again, her eyes closing as she holds you close. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers softly, the words like a promise.

And as you stand there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you know that this is what love is—messy, complicated, sometimes painful, but always worth fighting for. You tighten your hold on her, your fingers brushing her back as you sway gently to the silence.

Right now, in this moment, everything feels like it’s falling into place. And it’s enough.

Note: I've been experimenting with a new writing style that uses a lot more words than I typically do. l'd love to know if this is the kind of writing you'd like to see more of in the future.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months ago

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I can 100% imagine that while reader put headphones in her tummy when she was pregnant with Eliza or the new pregnancy, she would make the baby listen to Billy Joel and when she's distracted or if she fell sleep, Eddie would change it to any of his favorite metal bands 😂

I love this idea so much! It’s very them, lol. I set this while reader is pregnant with Eliza 🩷

Words: 1.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It’s became a running joke between you and your husband by your third trimester. The first time it happened, you had still been in the first initial throes of pregnancy, the exhaustion wreaking havoc on your system every day. It wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to come home and see you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Sometimes you’d be in bed or even soaking in the bath, but the couch seemed to become your late afternoon snooze location.

One day when Eddie came home and saw you bundled up beneath your favorite purple blanket, he smiled and headed towards the kitchen. But he froze halfway through the living room. What was that sound?

Eddie turned, eyes searching high and low for whatever could be creating the low murmuring sound that filled his ears. He took a few steps closer to the couch and realized it was coming from you.

Carefully, as not to disturb you, Eddie lifted the blanket and let out a small chuckle when he saw the headphones planted securely on your tummy. They were connected to your portable CD player, and as Eddie crouched down to be on the same level as your stomach, he tried to peek into the little window to see if he could tell what CD was inside. No luck, though.

Instead, Eddie moved as slowly and silently as possible to pull the headphones off your barely-there bump. He held them up to his ears to hear what you’re playing for your baby.

Brando, "The King and I", and "The Catcher in the Rye"

Eisenhower, Vaccine, England's got a new queen

Marciano, Liberace, Santayana, goodbye

“Oh, my sweet baby,” Eddie whispered. “What is she making you listen to? No, no. I will not let your mother subject you to Billy Joel. Wait right here. Well—you don’t have a choice, really.”

Eddie gently set down the headphones and pushed himself up from his crouched position. He took a few steps over to the stereo tucked in the corner of the room and rifled through his collection of CDs.

“Ah. Here we go.”

He plucked one and came back over to you, leaned down again, and quickly and quietly switched out your CD for a Metallica one. It took a moment to load, but then he pressed play and held the headphones up so he could hear.

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

And nothing else matters

“Much better.”

Eddie smiled to himself as he slipped the headphones back on your tummy and headed upstairs to get cleaned up.

Not even ten minutes later, you walked into your bedroom just as your husband was coming out of the adjoining bathroom.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted. Then he saw the unimpressed look on your face. “What?”

“Why did I fall asleep to the smooth voice of Billy Joel, only to wake up to the depressing Nothing Else Matters?”

“Hey, when I came home, We Didn’t Start the Fire was playing. Not exactly the most cheerful song.”

“Keep your mitts off my headphones. Or it’s war, baby.”

And it became war.

Sometimes you would grab your CD player and headphones right before Eddie came home, just for him to find you subjecting your child to your music. The only time he wouldn’t take the bait was if he was exhausted from work. Which meant, most times he had the energy to grab a metal CD and replace it with whatever pop one you had in.

Occasionally, this led to physical struggles, which involved a lot of laughing and rolling around on the floor with one another. The first few times that Ryan and Luke heard you squealing from the roughhousing, they’d come in to check on you. After the fourth time, they knew the sound meant another music battle was going on.

When you got your energy back in the second trimester, it became harder for Eddie to switch out the music because you weren’t randomly falling asleep as much. Which meant he needed a new plan of attack. Sometimes after you’d fall asleep in your bed at night, Eddie would tiptoe over to grab your portable CD player and headphones, pop a Metallica disc in, then put the headphones on your belly. If you didn’t roll over and knock them off or yank the cord, you’d most likely wake up in the morning after the CD finished.

It leads you to now, where you’re sitting on your bed on a Saturday afternoon, the windows open and letting in the warm summer breeze and the pleasant birdsongs. Eddie has his head in your lap, one hand on your pronounced bump.

“Was that another kick?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a wince.

The baby was now reaching the point where she’d be awake all night, moving around and not allowing you to get any sleep. It was getting uncomfortable, and you were hoping having Eddie here, rubbing your stomach would lull her to sleep. No dice so far.

“Here, can you hand me my headphones?” you ask, nodding towards your nightstand. “Maybe music will help.”

“And what music, may I ask, are you intending to play for our little sweet pea?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at you.

“I’ve had luck with Piano Man before,” you tell him.

“Don’t you think we should try—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Metal music makes her rowdy.”

“That’s my girl.” Eddie grins.

“Be a proud papa later. Right now, help your wife get some rest.”

“Wait…” Eddie hops off the bed and disappears out the bedroom door. He comes back a minute later brandishing a CD case.

“Have you tried this?” he asks.

You hold your hand out and bring the case closer once your husband hands it to you.

“The Phantom of the Opera? Huh. No, I haven’t. There are some good songs that could be used as lullabies in here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Eddie says as he crawls back on the bed with you. “Here, I’ll set it up for you.”

You watch as Eddie opens the case and pops the CD into the player, a fond smile on your face the whole time.

“So, we’ll call this a truce right now?” you ask.

“I suppose so,” Eddie says, handing you the headphone. “Guess you and I have to be a team against this hyper baby girl.”

“Right. When she pops out, we can try to sway her with our music,” you add.

“Deal.”

Eddie holds out his hand and you shake it with a chuckle.

You situate the headphones on your stomach just as Eddie presses play.

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Your husband curls up next to you and slowly rubs his hand up and down your belly. It only takes a few minutes before the movement in your womb slows down. You breathe a sigh of relief and rest your head against Eddie’s.

“Better?” he whispers.

“Mhmm,” you hum, letting your tired eyes fall shut.

A soft song is whispered near your ear and it takes you a moment to realize it’s Eddie singing Piano Man.

“Thought this song was a no?” you ask, voice already halfway fallen into sleep.

“Yeah, for the baby,” Eddie says. “But it’s too late for you. Your taste is solidified. So, I might as well give in.”

Eddie’s teasing tone makes you chuckle. He presses a kiss to the side of your head before picking up the tune again.

Sing us a song. You're the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Well, we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feeling alright

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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deathbyday · 13 days ago

Text

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧mouthwashing✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

TW: mentions of suicide

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Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

Daisuke laid down outside the entrance to the cargo room, mouthwash in hand. He was clearly drunk off of it. You sat beside him, rubbing his back in attempt to comfort him.

You found him like this, on the floor in agony. He didn’t need to say anything for you to figure that out. His body language gave it away. So, you did what any loving partner would do in that situation. Comfort him, listen to his words. Or just sit there in silence.

It hurt you to see him in pain. You’ve never seen Daisuke like this before, so vulnerable and fragile. “Daisuke, honey.. please tell me what’s wrong.” You muttered, leaning down as you continued to rub your hand against his back.

He quietly groaned, stirring at your touch. You stopped, hand resting on your lap. “Just leave me alone, Y/N. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to talk.” His voice cracked as he spoke. He sounded like he was trying not to cry.

You didn’t push him and instead stood up, not saying anything as you stepped away and went up the metal stairs towards the lounge area.

You walked through the automatic doors, not expecting to see anyone there. But surprisingly, you saw Anya and Swansea. Anya held the mouthwash, carefully examining the back of the bottle. Swansea was dancing beside the lounge’s couch, music blaring on the radio.

You didn’t bother saying anything to her, assuming she’d want to be alone as well. You passed by her without a word and laid down on the couch, feeling extremely exhausted.

You’ve been getting enough sleep lately, but you couldn’t find yourself getting any motivation. You’re still the same Y/N who came onto this ship. The only difference is that you have friends now.

You sighed, curling in on yourself. The loud sound of the music made your head hurt, but you knew if you said anything, Swansea would just end up getting upset at you. So, you backed off.

You felt like breaking down. You didn’t know how longer you could hang on, not with everyone becoming zombie-like. Ever since you all found the mouthwash, everything’s been going downhill.

Letting a small tear run down your face was a mistake. After a few seconds, there were multiple. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You muffled your cries by covering your mouth with both hands tightly, shutting your eyes and hiding your face in your knees.

You felt weak for crying, but you needed to get it out. You were always taught that crying helps people remember that you’re only human. But whenever you did, you were viewed as pathetic. Maybe just for once, you could cry without feeling guilty for it.

And so, you abused that power. You sobbed hard, not planning on stopping anytime soon. You just wanted to be done with this stupid nonsense and get back to your home. You just wanted to see your family again. You getting your own place didn’t even matter anymore.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You stiffen in fear, one glistening eye peaking out from your knee. It was Jimmy whose hand was on you. You opened your mouth, only a light croaking sound came out. But you pushed through and began speaking.

“What do you w-..want..?” You mumbled, hiding your face from his view as you wiped away your tears with your fingers. “Just wanted to see if you were alright.” He replied, letting your shoulder go.

“Well clearly I’m not.” You whispered harshly, fighting the urge to kick him like a child. “Go away.” You demanded, your voice soft and quiet. He didn’t say anything else and walked away, obeying your words.

You let more tears slip from the corners of your eyes, praying that this all ends soon. This could’ve just been a terrible, terrible dream. You were probably still asleep in your house, waiting for breakfast to be made by your guardian.

You snuffle, feeling the pain of your heart beating. It felt as if it were about to crack open in half and spill out blood. You heard light footsteps get louder, causing you to shove your face back into the couch cushion, hiding your face and covering your head with your arms, fingers latching onto your hair.

They couldn’t even speak before you weeped, your voice soft, yet filled with emotion. “Go away!” You pleaded, cradling your head in your arms. “Y/N?” Anya’s gentle voice rang out as she sat on the edge of the couch, sitting right beside you.

You fought back a cough, not replying to the woman. She hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing your clothed skin. “It’ll all be okay, I promise. Once we’re done with being stuck in this mess, you can go back to your regular life.” She softly reassured, not listening to your demands.

A light cough escapes your throat as you hiccup, feeling the air get pushed out of your lungs. You subconsciously sob louder, the music swallowing your cries. The black haired woman was quick to wrap her arms around you, codling your head to her chest.

You grab her biceps as you press the side of your face into her chest. She muffles your cries, shushing you.

“I-.. I don’t know how much longer I can do this!” You admit, feeling the pain get heavier and heavier every time you breathe. You gripped onto her clothed skin as if she were disintegrating from your grasp. She didn’t say anything, silently encouraging you to continue.

You shot her a glance, seeing her concerned face out of the corner of your eye before looking back down, your tears drying up on your cheeks. “I feel so p-..pathetic for wanting to kill myself, but it feels like the only solution right now..” You muttered, slightly stirring in her grasp.

It felt weird to confess your thoughts out loud, but you were relieved to get them out of your throat. Anya ran her fingers through your hair, giving you a small massage before speaking.

“Y/N..” She trailed off, a lump getting caught in her throat. She felt terrible for not noticing any signs earlier, but she was thrilled to know you felt comfortable enough to trust her with your mind.

“It may not seem like it right now, but it’s going to be okay. I know you’re going through a very difficult period, but you shouldn’t be giving up over something we can work through together.” She murmured, her tone of voice soft and gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes once again, causing you to shut your eyes. The comfort of her presence mixed with her warmth made you feel like you weren’t alone. You tighten your grip on her, light hiccuping sounds coming from your lips.

Anya didn’t shame you for breaking down in front of her. It was like she understood you. You’ve been there for her in the past, and now she’s returning the favor.

After a few minutes, your cries finally stopped. You snuffled, letting Anya loosen herself from your grasp. She guided your head back down onto the couch, giving you a soft smile before walking away. You shut your eyes, drowning out the sound of the radio with static.

______

3 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

“Daisuke?” Your soft voice filled the comforting silence of the lounge room. He sat in his sleeping bag, playing with his Gameboy. You glanced around the room, seeing nobody else. He paused his game and turned his head, a grin plastered across his lips at the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He sat up, setting his device aside his makeshift bed. You gave him a gentle smile before stepping towards the brunette. You leaned over and sat down beside him, wrapping your arms around him.

He melted in your touch, giving you a short lived kiss on the forehead. “What’s up?” He muttered, seeing the hesitant smile on your face that disappeared as he spoke.

You looked away, causing Daisuke to lift his hand and guide your head to look back him, resting his palm on your cheek. “When you.. or, we get back to earth, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?” You tilted your head, leaning into his palm as you waited for his response.

He blinked for a moment in thought, his hand leaving your face and running down the side of your waist, gently grasping your hip. “Marry you!” He chuckled, his eyes lighting up at the idea of marriage. You became flustered, not expecting that answer.

But nonetheless, you giggled along, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, my sweet boy.” You whispered into his ear, your voice soft as you laid your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you more!” He exclaimed, causing a light giggle to leave your throat. You rolled your eyes and let the topic pass, not wanting to argue about who loves who more.

“You win.” You sighed in defeat, causing him to pump his fist in the air, almost punching your throat.

______

4 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You sit in a chair that laid to the side of the medical bed, your arms and head resting on the thin sheets as you stare at the burnt man lying down in front of you. You didn’t know why you were in there, but you felt like you needed to talk to him.

It’s been so long since you’ve even seen him, it almost felt refreshing. But alongside that, it was awkward. The captain and you rarely spoke before the crash, and you never spoke after. So what’s the point of doing this?

You gently cleared your throat and lifted your head, catching the eye of Curly. You took a deep breath in before speaking.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You chuckled, ignoring the tightening pain in your chest. “I guess I’ve just, I don’t know.. been wondering why you did it? Everything was going well, I think. But then the crash happened..” You trailed off, feeling your eyelids start to sting, indicating tears were forming.

You fought hard to keep them from falling out as you continued. “Honestly, Curly, I don’t know if I believe that you were the one who crashed us into that asteroid.” You admitted, resting your hands in your lap.

He stared at you, wishing he could do more. He wanted to reach out, to tell you everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. Even though the two of you barely spoke, let alone befriended each other, it was still his job to take care of his crew members.

If he knew this would be his destiny, he would’ve made so much more conversation with you. He knew you liked to be alone, drowning in your own thoughts without any interruptions. But he thought that he could possibly help you with social interactions. But with everything going on, he left that job alone.

You opened your mouth to speak, but got cut off by the sound of the door opening behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to recognize the sound of their footsteps.

“Y/N?” Anya’s soft voice ran through the silence of the medical room, causing you to turn your head towards her.

“I need to give Curly his pills.” She explained, hinting for you to leave. You gave a quiet nod in understanding, giving the captain a short lived wave before walking out of the room, glancing at the woman before doing so.

Oh how you wished you weren’t so dumb.

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authors note

welp, time to get your tissues out!

if you didn’t notice, I changed the banner for this story(and a few other things). the reason for that is because I just felt like it needed a change. hopefully you guys like it!

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, next one will be up soon <33

#mouthwashing #indie games #mouthwashing game #video games #horror games #x reader #mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #writers on tumblr #angst with no happy ending #writeblr #writing #daisuke x reader mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #angst

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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p.2 one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

this boy is gonna get whinyyyy in the next one. sorry i haven't been posting like everyday anymore, i'm either hitting a wall or i'm exiting my manic creative fever

warnings. sfw-ish, conversation/narration about sex. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / smut build-up / flirting / one night stand aftermath / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / museum setting / miscommunication / 1.6k words / reply to be added to taglist for part 3!

haikyuu collection. part one here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3.

"Are you sure they're not in your bag?"

You did not want to bother somebody at their job because of your nephew's inconvenient tendency to leave his eyeglasses around.

The six-year-old stopped and you watched him search through his little Indiana Jones-themed bag. No glasses. Just the sandwich you packed for him, a coloring book, and pencils to go with it.

"Shit," You sighed under your breath. You had already been in the museum for an hour and a half.

They could've been anywhere. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked at the reclined worker behind the service desk in the lobby.

"We'll... we'll ask if they've seen any, alright?"

"Okay!"

You approached, hoping the man would break the ice first when he noticed you.

All he did was keep tapping away on his phone.

If anything, he shrank lower in his seat when you came up to the counter so you couldn't see him as easily.

"Hi, um- Excuse me, we just wanted to know if you've seen any glasses around- Or if anyone had come by to turn some in."

It was difficult enough to muster the courage to speak. But to make matters worse, the worker peeked out from around his shoe with the rudest 'Go away, I'm busy doing nothing' stare that he could muster.

Pressured frustration built in your chest and you readied yourself to speak louder, be more assertive so he could understand this wasn't a problem that would just go away.

It fizzled at a flash of short, fluffy blond hair.

Your fingers twitched from the memory of how soft it was against your shoulder, between your legs, against your palms.

His eyes widened with recognition. He took his legs back down, a lanky hand setting his headphones to rest around his neck.

You realized you had forgotten his name, so you couldn't express that you knew him so easily-- it left you speechless, grabbing at something to say.

Thankfully, it was a problem for later, because he confirmed that he heard you after all.

"You wear... glasses?" He asked.

His face worked, soaking in every new detail of your natural features he didn't get to see the last time you were together.

"No, I don't," Was all you could say.

You motioned to the child hiding behind your back, clinging to your shirt.

A nearly open-mouthed look.

"Oh!" You covered a small laugh at his unnaturally wide-eyed stare, "He's not mine!"

You held your hand to your heart, then placed it atop your nephew's head and ruffled his hair.

"Just babysitting my nephew. He wouldn't stop asking me to come here,"

The kid leaned all his weight to the side and squinted around, using you as an anchor to hold him up. He couldn't be bothered listening to you.

"He loves the museum."

He spared a glance to the little one rubbing his eyes behind you and, to his own surprise, found sympathy in his heart.

It was a quiet and incredibly uncomfortable search. You remembered his name along the way, thankfully.

It didn't help that it was nearly empty besides your small group making a sloth's pace throughout the vast, never-ending halls. Frequent stops at places you lingered at earlier to read plaques or marvel at figures put some occasional ease on the tension.

Tsukishima walked slow, with his hands in his pockets, and looked at anything but you.

Simply by his wordless agreement to help you, you could tell this job wasn't something he took very seriously. If he didn't already know you inside and out, he would've turned his music up to drown out your plea for help.

His calculated, but somehow yet disinterested gaze stood as strong evidence that he wasn't warm.

You held yourself to silence a shiver.

So, why did he look so heartbroken when you left his bedroom?

A quiet, toneless voice wrenched you out of your inquisitive thoughts.

"You do this often?"

You didn't understand how comfortable you actually were with the quiet until you had to come up with something to respond with. What was he referring to? The museum, or the sex?

"Um-?"

His face was so intense when you tried to look at him for more elaboration. Like you had stepped on the back of his shoe.

You quickly looked down.

"With the kid," He muttered.

"Oh, yeah," You blew a breath of relief, "Yeah yeah, I see him every couple weeks. We usually come here."

He hummed.

It was getting quiet all over again. You felt an obligation to try, now.

"Do...you like working here?" You winced. A dumb question you already knew the answer to.

His response wasn't as cruel as you expected. He even pretended to consider it.

"It pays for my tuition."

A generous nugget of information- your nephew began searching on his own accord around this old, interactive archeological sand table and you lingered next to Tsukishima for a minute.

"Tohoku University?"*

He nodded at your question as you both sifted through the sand in front of you.

"Me, too," You smiled, "Kinesiology major."

There was a small laugh on his lips. He smoothed the display back out when it was obvious there were no glasses here and you continued on your way.

"What, are you some snooty med student?" You scoffed at his perceived pretentiousness.

It wasn't rare to come across people who discriminated based on major when you interacted with so many aspiring nurses and surgeons. You liked the student athletes at your university better.

"No," He shook his head, "I- Just- yeah. It's nothing."

You believed him, but he left you confused and hanging on by a thread by his odd mannerisms and avoidant speech. It was difficult to make any lasting judgement about him.

Regardless, he stuck around and, though not enthusiastically, helped you search for the next twenty minutes.

There was the chance he could've been doing it all to repeat that night. If he gave you any indication that he was interested in a round two, you were prepared to take him up on the offer. But you had a feeling he would've already tried to flirt, or talk more, or just flat out tell you instead of dancing around, exhausting your politeness if it was the case.

Another room, another few minutes spent searching.

When nothing came up again, you got his attention with a frown, "You don't have to keep helping. I know this is pretty dull."

His face grew a bit warm. You both looked away.

"I'm not just gonna leave," He managed to work around your invitation to go away and reference your night together.

At first, you trailed behind him on the way into the next hall, but shook your reaction off and caught up to his side.

"So, why did you?"

He cut the niceties and put it all on the table, but you weren't at all expecting it to be laced in guilt, or shame, on his end.

Maybe if he had a sweeter resting face, or didn't kiss you so fast, or wasn't so handsy in the Uber back to his place, or didn't fuck you on the floor because he couldn't wait to get to his room, or didn't talk to you like he owned you, or didn't tell you to scream his name-- maybe if he just had an ounce of patience at the start, you would've foreseen his cuddly side and stayed a bit longer.

Honesty was probably best.

"I just," There was difficulty in your voice, "I just didn't peg you as the type to want more than-,"

His eyes were narrow and focused, fixated on your glossy lips as you spoke. It forced you to end your sentence short.

A minute passed and you were back to the skeleton displays.

As you watched him across the room, leaned under a bench to help search despite it being well over his paycheck, your heart squeezed.

He was a pretty boy- and kind where it counted, as far as you could tell. The most obvious trait of his was how much he liked you, even at the very start.

The way his face worked when he looked at you; intensity in the form of longing you'd never been the subject of before.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel pretty special to make a guy like that crumble.

"Found them." He called.

You groaned out a yes, excited you didn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a replacement. You jogged over to watch him wipe off the lenses on his shirt and hand them to your nephew.

"Glasses are expensive," Tsukishima placed his hands on his hips, unaware of how intimidating he was to a small child, "You should keep better track of those."

The kid apologized at a barely-there whisper and quickly clung to you again, embarrassed.

After all the searching, you were both tired and relieved to be able to go back home. Part of you weighed your legs down to this spot, though.

"I- suppose I owe you an apology, too," You admitted.

The double meaning was not lost on him. His chest swelled with a tentative, slow breath and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have to do that."

You were almost certain he was about to invite you back to his place. Just when you thought you had him, he slips away.

It was risky, but as you watched your nephew sprint over to a display he didn't see earlier, you decided it was more appropriate to try again.

"I'd love to make it up to you," You placed your hands on the back of your hips and tried to emulate the same look you passed to him in the club. Through your lashes, real casual, but unwavering eye contact.

His jaw worked at your not-so-subtle request to be invited back. It gave way to a hand rifling through his short, bouncy curls and red-tinged ears.

He looked over his shoulder to check you weren't being listened to.

A familiar sound was his low, interested mutter, "Are you free tonight?"

taglist.

holy shit tsukki gets so much love on here. thanks for supporting and tuning in! part three will be hornier

@little-stitious-studios @sunshinesx-264

@hrts4hanniehae @lord-hqcifer

@inofish @integers @ushijimaschubbs

@sharkubi @imiqz @yuyunhoo

reply to be added!

masterlist. requests closed.

*the uni mention: idk what the fuck i'm talking about lmao fan wiki failed me i tried to find out where he actually goes to college don't burn me at the stake

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coco-loco-nut · 7 months ago

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I Hate It Here

Pairing: Max x Sister Reader

Summary: Max takes a stand for his sister

TW: jos verstappen, mentioned abuse, depression, mentions of death, mentions of an affair

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

With Max gone, you were the one subject to the wrath of Jos Verstappen, especially when you stopped karting after a couple years. So while your brother was off winning grand prix after grand prix, you were continually reminded that you aren’t good enough, that you were the dud of a child.

“Maxie, tell me a story,” you call your older brother in tears one night, you don’t blame him for the fact that you are a failure. You love your older brother more than anything.

With a heavy sigh, Max dives into a made up story, like he was a poet trapped inside the body of a race car driver, except he is an awful storyteller. He does but doesn’t want to know the BS your lame excuse for a father told you.

Max is your best, and only friend, your consolation prize for surviving this far. You stopped really leaving home years ago, only leaving to go to the grocery store. Even to your job, you were just another remote employee.

Max only ever wants the best for his sister, you haven’t seen Victoria since you were so young that you don’t really even know if she actually exists, so he is all you have. Victoria doesn’t really remember you either, seeing as how you were the child of an affair. Max always tries to bring you to races as a lucky charm, but your response is always the same ‘i don’t believe in good luck, maybe next time’. It’s like you are scared to leave home, safer in the comfort of the walls you’ve only ever known.

You pull out your headphones and listen to music, tuning out the world. You hate it here, you hate your father, but you only know of one way to escape. You close your eyes and go to the little paradise in your mind. You read about something similar when you were a kid from a book Max you. It sits on your nightstand, the spine worn and frayed from years of use.

That’s similar to how Max finds you when he arrives a couple weeks later. By now he is used to finding you in that state, you spend most of your free time in your own mind.

“Y/n? Where do you go? In your mind,” Max asks, laying beside you in your bed.

“A little garden, you need a key to get in though,” you say, a little dazed.

“And how would one get a key?” He asks further, trying to keep you engaged.

“There is only one, mine,” you reply, moving to grab your headphones again. Max quickly, but gently takes them.

“Charles was asking about you. He wanted to know how you were, since he hasn’t seen you since I joined F3,” Max continues, you just look at him, an oddity in your dark room.

“Charles?” You ask and Max nods.

“My friend, you thought he had a silly accent, and thought he was cute,” Max elaborates, searching your face to see a look of recognition. You just shrug.

“We used to play games, travel back in time to different decades. You loved the 1800s,” Max says, not ready to give up.

“I was a debutante,” you whisper causing Max to smile brightly. You just shake your head, you read once that nostalgia is a minds trick. “I bet I hated it, it is always freezing in the palace,” you say, unknowingly giving Max a glimpse into the secret escapes in your mind. In your fantasies you travel everywhere even to space. Secretly you love it, but you are more than content to stay at home, even if you hate it here.

“Come to the FIA Prize Giving with me, pretend it’s one of your fantasies,” Max says, you nod your head, already away in another world where only the gentle survive.

“Max? Am I going to die?” You ask out of the blue, well out of the blue for Max. He doesn’t know how to respond before you turn back into yourself. He stands up, watching you for a minute. You stayed out of your depression a minute longer than usual, a small win for him.

“Leave your poor sister alone,” Jos says, Max just glares at him. Jos is the man who made you like this and Max will never forgive himself for it.

“Y/n is coming with me to Monaco, for good. Since you don’t care about her, I will take care of her,” Max says, prepared to stand his ground.

“Whatever, if you want to tolerate her worthlessness, that’s up to you,” Jos waves his hand, one less failure in his home.

“Don’t call her that,” Max grits his teeth. He was going to wait a couple days, but perhaps it’s necessary to expedite it here.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s your problem now,” Jos walks away. Max returns to your bedroom, getting a suitcase from your closet. Only the essentials for now, the rest can be picked up tomorrow. He packs up as much as he can in an hour before somehow convincing you to go with him to his hotel. You just stare out the window of the car as he drives, clearly uncomfortable. Max gives you the bedroom and takes the pull out couch. He immediately dials Charles.

“Max? What happened?” Charles can hear the exhaustion in Max’s voice.

“I’m bringing Y/n back to Monaco with me, she’s basically being left to rot by Jos. She’s lonely and bitter, but swears she’s fine. Y/n gets lost in her mind on purpose, there’s this fantasy land that she saves the good parts -her romanticism- in her mind. I’m losing her,” Max chokes back a sob.

“Max, what do you mean, losing her?” Charles asks, more alert.

“She doesn’t eat, she’s depressed beyond imagination, doesn’t leave the house, spends the time she isn’t working remotely in her mind. This house, our father, makes her feel worthless. If I didn’t come tonight, she might’ve died. Charles, she asked me if she was going to die,” Max has your image ingrained in his memory, a little too thin and pale.

“I just texted Maman, she will come over and visit her for a little every day, make sure she eats,” Charles says, holding back his own tears. He remembers you fondly as the little girl with pig tails, always excited to spend time with her big brother.

You struggle with the move to Monaco, one you didn’t get a say in it, likely because you spend most of the year in your mind. You have come to grow more comfortable with the woman who visits you and uses food from your brother’s fridge to feed you.

“Y/n? Feel like talking today?” she gently asks, setting the food in front of you, like she does every day. You look up, and Pascale nearly cries, seeing you start to breaks through. Your blue eyes pierce hers.

“Tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped in the body of a finance guy,”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc

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sage-nebula · 8 months ago

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"Suffer No Fools" - Shiver vs. Marina Analysis

It's been a few days since "Suffer No Fools" released, but I wanted to go ahead and release my analysis of Shiver's and Marina's verse since that's the one that has caused the most discussion within the fandom. I've seen a lot of debate over Marina's section in particular, with people unsure whether she was being sincere or sarcastic, and I think the actual answer is a little more complicated than one or the other, at least with regards to the first couplet of lines both she and Shiver sing. Of course, people are free to interpret this song however they wish, but after seeing numerous interpretations I personally didn't vibe with, I just wanted to put my own out there, breaking it down line by line.

So! Here we go.

Exchange 1:

Shiver: "Your haunting voice -- there's no escape. How nice it must be for your fans." Marina: "You're far too kind! I love your vibe. I can learn so much from your style."

Analyzing from dialogue only:

Shiver is insulting Marina's voice by calling it haunting and saying there is no escape, insinuating she wishes there was one. She says how nice it must be for Marina's fans, again implying that she isn't one.

Marina says that she loves Shiver's vibe, which on the surface could be a compliment, but given the context (a music battle) it could also be a Mean Girl "ooh I love your [thing] :)" passive-aggressive drawing-attention-to-something-ugly insult. More direct though, is the "I can learn so much from your style"; you can learn what not to do from someone just as much as you can learn what to do from someone. Marina's engaging in plausible deniability here.

HOWEVER. Lyrics are NOT the only thing that need to be analyzed from this first verse, which is arguably the MOST important exchange between these two. Instead, we need to look at how these lines are delivered.

Shiver is singing in a traditional Japanese folk singing style, specifically a style based on Shima-uta, which her voice actress has a background singing in. Unfortunately, I don't know the actual term for this style of singing, only that it's not kakegoe, something Shiver also does that is different from this. Anyway, in these lines specifically Shiver is singing in her Shima-uta style, a style that she has presumably been practicing since she was a small child, a style that is probably culturally significant to the Hohojiro clan. Singing in this style is not something that just anyone can do. It's completely different from singing in a (for lack of a better word) "western" style. The way you breathe is completely different. The way you incorporate your voice into your breathing is completely different. So by singing in this style, which Shiver has been doing practically her whole life and which, presumably, only she of the four there can do, Shiver is FLEXING on Marina regardless of what lyrics she chooses to sing.

But then Marina, who grew up under the domes in Inkadia, who presumably has never heard Shima-uta before she started listening to Deep Cut and heard Shiver sing, who presumably has had absolutely no training whatsoever on this style of song . . . mimics it perfectly and flexes on Shiver right back.

Could Marina's words to Shiver be interpreted as passive-aggressive in turn? Yes. But does it matter? No, not really. Because in this first verse, Marina's ACTUAL comeback is to take the style of singing that Shiver has been perfecting her entire life and throw it right back in her face despite having never (as far as we or Shiver know) practiced it herself. Shiver was flexing by presumably doing something Marina couldn't do, only for Marina to do it flawlessly, being every bit as divine with a voice so fine as Pearl said she was previously. Marina says "I love your vibe" so she takes it. Marina says "I have so much to learn from you" but does she really, when she can already do exactly what Shiver can, and has, just now, right in front of her?

And Shiver noticed, hence:

Exchange 2:

Shiver: "You remind me of my neighbor's little daughter . . . What's that saying? 'Octo see, octo do.'" Marina: "Glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved. Thanks to your notes, I'll find my groove!"

Shiver drops the Shima-uta singing, because now there's no point. Marina can also sing in that style, so it's no longer a flex. Shiver lost ground on that one, so instead we're back to the same (again, for lack of a better word) "regular" style of singing that everyone else is using. For that reason, we can go back to analyzing purely based on the words alone.

Shiver is calling Marina a copycat, essentially, because Marina copied her Shima-uta singing style in the previous verse (hence why Shiver had to drop it, as previously noted). Marina then gives her "glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved" . . . basically noting that by Shiver accusing her of copying, Shiver is saying that Marina -- someone who just tried the singing style off the cuff right there on the stage for the first time -- was just as good as Shiver, someone who has trained in that style her whole life. The audience saw for themselves that Marina was able to emulate the style, but Shiver saying, "you copied me!" is basically admitting that Marina was just as good as her in Shiver's own eyes, and Shiver is a pro. That's Shiver's aggravation handing Marina the win and Marina smiling wide as she accepts it.

Exchange 3:

Shiver: "Oh, look at the time. Isn't it getting late?" Marina: "Not at all! I could go on like this all night long."

This one doesn't even really need an analysis. For all that she prides herself on being "so cool even sharks call her cold-blooded," Shiver is known for being easily irritated and riled when she's losing due to her competitive nature. Marina successfully got under her skin, and this is her trying to end the battle fast because she didn't have any further comebacks. Marina, meanwhile, gives the classic "I could go on all night" because she's not riled at all, and is instead perfectly comfortable in this environment, knows what she's doing, and has had the upper hand from the start.

It goes back to another post I made about Experience vs. Inexperience. Shiver and Frye are still new idols, whereas Pearl and Marina have been at this for a long while. And while off the stage Marina is a sweet, kind, gentle person who will go out of her way to help others, and can sometimes be a little spacey or naive, she's also a 23-year-old literal genius who has been in the music industry for years now and knows full well what a rap / music battle is and knows her way around a stage. Personally, I found it to be a little infantilizing to insinuate that she "didn't realize Shiver was insulting her," when not only do I think she knew full well, but also she was the one with the upper hand not because of sick burns (that's Pearl's department), but because of sheer innate musical talent.

But those are just my thoughts! Everyone else is free to have their own.

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #suffer no fools #off the hook #deep cut #shiver hohojiro #marina ida #keep in mind that Shiver is my favorite Deep Cut member please #i mean no disrespect to her in any of this #i really do just think it's her inexperience in the music industry etc #and Frye's as well #i think that in Splatoon 4 we'll see that Shiver and Frye have matured some & made some headway in their own careers #(and Big Man too ofc but tbh he's already there with the maturity imo)#(hence his collabing w/ Squid Sisters & non-hostility toward OtH)#then again maybe Deep Cut wants to stay indie. idk! we'll see

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ohdeersthings · 2 years ago

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Ao'nung x F!Deaf!Metkayina!Reader

Summary: Ao'nung has loved you since childhood.

Warning: Fluff, Ao'nung is a jerk to everyone but reader, some angst (I love emotional revelation of feelings), characters are aged up 18+ but no warnings here! Ronal ships reader and Ao'nung,

Note: was a request from @keyratch hope you enjoy it!

~.~

Growing up, you always knew you were different. You couldn't hear the ocean waves, couldn't listen to the music of your clan for celebrations. You couldn't even harmonize with your mother as she sings to lull you to sleep.

Being born deaf, your parents tried so hard to pray to Eywa for a sign. The Tsahìk, Ronal, tried every herb and technique she knew, but nothing could change who you were.

What Eywa had decided for you to be.

You never blamed Eywa though, for the Great Mother had blessed you to feel a connection to her. You could feel her in the sand; the warmth of the sun that she blessed you with, the coolness of the ocean as you swam to admire the creatures she's created.

Even as a small child you had been drawn to the beauty of the Pandora.

The smallest sea shells you would collect and braid into your hair, stringing some together to make a necklace, bracelet, or head peice. The brightest floral you would gather to present to friends and family, just because the beauty of them made you think of others.

Ao'nung had only been eight when he met you for the first time. While training with his father on spear throwing he had caught sight of you collecting sea shells.

He was so distracted by you, he grabbed the spear wrong and cut his finger. Letting out a small hiss of pain, he instantly sucked on it, causing his father to gaze at him and then at you. Tonowari couldn't help but chuckle, "I see the silent beauty has caught your eye," Ao'nung was confused by his father's words, but quickly denied having even spotted you.

"Well that's too bad, because here she comes right now," sure enough you had seen the leader with his son, Ao'nung and had started over in their direction when you saw the big was hurt.

Ao'nung could only feel himself freeze as you closed the distance fast, suddenly reaching out to grab his hand as he tried to back away,

"H-hey! What are you doing?!" Ao'nung flinched as you pressed on his finger, the one he'd cut being too caught up looking at you. You never said anything, just brought out a healing leaf from your hip pouch and wrapped his finger quickly and efficiently.

"Thank you," he mumbled, you smiled and let go of his hand, signing to him, 'Would you like to play after training?' It had puzzled him why you didn't just ask out loud, but after looking to his father for assurance, he nodded to you causing you to smile and nod, turning back the way you'd come and headed away.

"Father, why didn't she just ask me?" Ao'nung questioned, looking up at Tomowari who smiled sadly at him, "she is deaf my son, she cannot speak for she never learned how, she cannot hear you," Ao'nung didn't feel any different towards you, maybe more curious, but he never felt like you were weird.

~.~

After that day many years ago, Ao'nung had grown, and so did his love for you. What started out as amazement and adoration as children, had since grown into feeling as if you were the only one for him.

The way you helped his sister with day to day chores, such grace and beauty weaving baskets and collecting herbs for his mother. The complete definition of selfless as you taught the children of the clan their sign, who else but you with your patience and grace.

The tingles you left on his body when you would tap his hand, shoulder, arm, anything to get his attention. You left him yearning for your attention day and night. Left him in agonizing pain at the thought of having you with him under the stars but couldn't.

Yourself however, would be a prize to any fine young Na'vi, but to your own self image you were at the bottom of the food chain. Your biggest insecurity being your deafness. You would never hear your mates words of love and comfort, would never hear the giggles of your own future children should Great Mother bless you with any.

You never had anyone express interest in you, although Ao'nung made sure of that, not that you knew. He always glared, growled or warned any man who looked in your direction. He made sure to linger a hand on your waist while talking, a smug look over his shoulder at the hunters who had tried to talk to you, a smirk at the Ilu keepers who tried to get to close.

When the Sullys had arrived, you had been busy helping Ronal with her duties as she was trusting you to take over while she got ready to give birth.

You didn't get to see Tsireya and Ao'nung as often as they were busy with teaching the new comers the traditions and expectations of the clan.

'(Y/N) go fetch Ao'nung, he should be down on the beach,' Ronal requested, you nodded, standing from your sitting position and heading out of the Marui, starting your trek to the beach.

You had found a few flowers on your way, taking a moment to pluck them from the ground and arranged them nicely. Maybe Ao'nung would like something to help brighten his mood.

Stopping once you reached the beach, you felt your eyes widen in disbelief as Ao'nung and his friends were surrounding Kiri, pointing at her and laughing. Kiri was clearly uncomfortable and trying to walk away, luckily Lo'ak came and started to intercept the boys, only they turned their hateful ways onto him.

You felt your fists clench up, nervously twisting the flowers. You started walking in that direction, Neteyam showing up as well from beside you, making yourself known too.

Ao'nungs ears pressed back, his body feeling hot with embarrassment that you'd caught him being rude to someone.

"Oh look, big brother to the rescue-" Ao'nung reached his hand out, silencing his friend who bowed his head obediently. "I need you to respect my sister from now on," Neteyam threatened, his eyes glaring into Ao'nung who nodded, trying to ease the anxiety in his chest as you approached too.

You tapped Kiris hand, the girl turning to you as you looked her over, as she tried to calm you down, 'I'm fine, no harm done,' she assured, you face turning into one of doubt but giving up in the end.

The three siblings went to walk away, but Lo'ak suddenly turned around and went back to Ao'nung, his smirk and quirked eyebrow making you upset a little. Why was he acting this way? Was he really this mean to them?

Ao'nung didn't know what had happened when Lo'ak punched him, one second he was standing and the next on the floor with his friends helping him up. They all jumped Lo'ak who held his ground to the best of his abilities, but soon found his brother Neteyam jumping in to help him.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth in disbelief, the flowers falling into the sand forgotten. Why were they doing this? 'Kiri, we need to stop them' you told her, but even she could only look on in a mix of horror and laughter.

Deciding that enough was enough, you inserted yourself into the fight, Ao'nungs friends quickly backing away as you pulled them off.

Neteyam hadn't seen you enter the fight, when he felt his shoulder get touched he quickly turned and went to punch the person, barely being able to stop himself before he hit you.

You had flinched inward, arms raised quickly to protect yourself, eyes shut incase of pain. "(Y/N)!" Ao'nung threw himself to you, shoving Neteyam out of the way, his hands gently grabbing yours to bring them down.

You squeaked, the cutest sound Ao'nung had ever heard, and opened your eyes to see Ao'nung checking you for injuries despite his cheek being bruised and lip busted. His eyes held fear and worry, hands moving from your arms to gently hold your face.

An adult nearby had brought his father and Toruk Makto, but he didn't care for the shouts that were happening, he could only focus on you. He brought his hands into view, 'You okay?' Ao'nung questioned, though your face contorted into worry as you held his face, feeling bad when he flinched from your thumb brushing his cheek.

He grabbed your hand and held it at his side as he turned to Neteyam, "Don't you ever touch her again!" If it hadn't been for his father pulling him away with you in tow, he would've attacked the oldest sibling.

"Maybe don't start things your girlfriend tries to finish!" Lo'ak yelled back, getting dragged away by his own father.

Upon entering the Marui, his mother hit him upside the head, "skxqwng! You brought (Y/n) into this?! I pray for the resilience to not break your bones!" Ao'nung averted his mother and fathers gaze, his head down as he couldn't even look to you either. Ashamed you had caught him at his worst moment.

"I leave (Y/n) to take care of your wounds, Great Mother help you find some sense!" Ronal hissed, Tonowari leading her out of the Marui to give you two some privacy.

You slowly walked over, placing a hand on his arm, Ao'nung letting you lead him to the mat and both of you sitting down facing eachother.

'What were you thinking?' You inquired, waiting for his reply as you began to mix a paste together. 'I wasn't thinking, but they deserved it, freaks all of them' he huffed, sucking it back in when you roughly applied the paste to his cheek.

His eyes found yours as you stared at him with hurt, 'What does that make me then? I cannot hear, I cannot speak well, they can communicate freely, I have to look for eyes and attention,'

Ao'nung felt his throat constrict, his hands clamy. You were so beautiful in his eyes, but the way he treated them made you think ill of yourself and that's not want he wanted.

You looked down, eyes glossy from unshed tears. His hand on your chin made you look at him, your lip trembling as your ears pressed back.

Ao'nung let go and signed only one word, but it made your body erupt in flames.

'Beautiful'

~.~

Since the incident with the boys on the beach, Ao'nung tried to be kind in your presence when the sullys were around but when the opportunity to trick Lo'ak revealed itself, he couldn't help it.

When he returned though and found you looking at him with those eyes again. Eyes filled with pain and now disappointment, he knew had to do the right thing.

'I'm sorry,' he apologized, finding you alone by the beach later that night. You turned from him, arms crossed. You weren't going to look at him or reply.

He fell to his knees in front of you, grasping at your hands desperately. You huffed, eyes glaring into him. Ao'nung used to pray he would never see that day you gave him that look, but after what he'd done to Lo'ak he could say he deserved it.

Hands trailing from your hands down to your elbows, he slowly let go and began to speak, "I'm sorry, I know I've been stupid and they don't deserve that, I'm not sure what I was thinking," Ao'nung kept his eyes trained on yours, watching you look exhausted.

"Why risk the danger? What if he'd gotten hurt? Or worse, you," you felt your lips pull back in a snarl, though he could only find pleasure in the fierceness of your face. His heart beat fast knowing you cared about him.

"I wish you would think with this," you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat, "not with this," you playfully pushed his forehead, a smile appearing on your lips. You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he smiled at you as softly as he did now.

He grasped your hand, bringing it back to his chest. You felt your own speed up to match his, both of you filled with deep affection for one another, not that the other knew.

You both stared at eachother for what felt like hours, yet only a few minutes had passed, just enjoying eachothers company.

When you had broken out of your daydream however, you quickly pulled your hand away and stood up, eyes darting everywhere but him as you shakily signed, "we shouldn't be doing this, I have to go,"

Ao'nung couldn't stand fast enough when you pulled away, tripping over the sand as you ran. Everything had just been perfect, what had happened?

~.~

You helped Ronal to sit, her stomach slowly getting bigger as the days went on. "Baby is good?" You wondered, a grin on your face of excitement as she nodded, her own smile gracing her features.

'Baby is strong, maybe a boy like Ao'nung,' she replied, you nodding in agreement, 'Ao'nung differently is strong,'

'Yes, he will be a great Olo'eyktan, if only he hurry and choose his Tsahìk,' she let her eyes slip to your figure out of the corner of her sight, seeing you quickly look down and away. Not out of embarrassment it seemed, but out of disappointment.

Ronal frowned, she did not like seeing you so hurt, especially by her own child, lest he be stupid enough to do it.

Ronal placed her hand on your cheek, bringing your face back up to make eye contact with her, 'why do you look so sad? What has happened?'

You tried to brush her off, 'it's nothing, I'm sure whoever he chooses will make a lovely Tsahìk,' you began to ramble, hands moving quickly, 'Ney`ite is the best diver, Alyara is known to sing beautifully, from what I've seen and been told,'

'He deserves someone who can help him feel better on rough days, someone who can actually listen and help with his problems, who loves and cherishes him as he is,'

Ronal tapped your hand, causing you to heat up in realization, you'd been rambling for too long. 'Someone, like you?' She quirked her brow, a knowing smirk on her face.

You shook your head, eyes feeling glossy with tears, 'what do I have to offer him?' You felt a hiccup erupt in your throat from trying to hold in your sobs, 'I cannot listen to his problems, I cannot comfort our children with words when crying, no one would look to me, Eywa may love me as she created me, but surely Ao'nung loves another,'

Ronal felt her eyes catch the sight of a figure standing behind you. Ao'nung could only stand frozen as he saw what you thought of yourself. He's never loved anyone like he loves you, and it's his fault for making you think otherwise.

Ronal grasped your hands firmly, shaking her head at you. Ronal reached a hand for Ao'nung who walked over, his shadow startling you as you looked upwards, his face looking hurt by your own tears.

Ronal placed your hand in his, his fingers gripping your own softly but firm, like a silent promise to never let go.

The Tsahìk bowed in exiting the Marui, leaving both of you alone.

Ao'nung knelt to face you, your cheeks hot with humiliation that he had to see you like this. You tried to look elsewhere but he placed his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him.

He let go, feeling a moment of Deja Vu as he thought back to two nights ago by the water. When you both had been just as close in the sand.

"You are not less than anyone here," he signed, feeling his heart excelerate with emotion.

'(Y/n), I don't need to hear your voice to know your words are strong and kind, I don't need your words of comfort when your touches are enough,' he placed your hand on his chest, just as he did those nights ago. He hoped you would feel his heart that's beating full of love for you.

You could only feel a bizarre rush of emotions, anger at yourself for letting Ao'nung find out this way, fear in what is to come, yet, love from knowing he felt the same as you did.

'I'm sorry you did not see yourself as adequate when you are more than I could ever dream, the love you hold for our clan speaks words where your lips may fail,'

You felt your lips quiver, tears falling down your face as you tried to hold yourself together.

'I see you, (Y/n), and I would love for you to become my Tsahìk, my mate,'

You laughed, 'I would love to spend my life with you, I see you, Ao'nung,' you pressed your forehead to his, his own tear or two slipping from his eye as you both enjoyed this moment of peace together.

He raised both hands to your face, cupping your head as he brought your lips to his, the soft, plush feeling of your lips nearly driving him mad with desire. Your own hand finding home on his chest and shoulder as you felt weak from lack of air.

Pulling away, you made him stand up with you, his eyes showing curiosity. You smirked at him, 'Wanna go somewhere more private?' Ao'nungs silence spoke for itself as he dragged you out of the Marui, right past his parents who had a sudden look of realization.

"Oh Great Mother," Ronal sighed exasperated, "Looks like our youngest will be close in age to our grandchild," Tonowari mumbled, flinching from Ronal who began to hit him from saying such words, "skxqwng!"

~.~

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar: the way of water #atwow fanfiction #atwow imagines #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x deaf reader #ao'nung x deafreader #aonung x deaf reader #aonung x deafreader #aonung x Metkayina #aonung x you #aonung x y/n #aonung x

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honestly-mad-person · 9 months ago

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DADDY'S TIME

A/n: Get ready for your heart to melt from the level of cuteness and sweetness with L&D boys as daddies!

Synopsys: You decide to take a nap because you are tired of taking care of your three-year-old child and ask your husband to take over while you rest.

Characters: Xavier / Zayne (Sorry Rafayel’s stands)

Genre: Fluff

XAVIER VERSION

You woke up in the afternoon and rubbed your eyes sleepily and left the bedroom. You slept a little, tired from the sleepless night, because your daughter often woke up in the middle of the night, waking you and Xavier with her crying. You loved this little bundle of cuteness who looked just like his daddy, but tiredness got the better of you.

You listened to the noises in the apartment and the only thing you could hear was a soft melody coming from the children's room. You followed the sound and opened the door and froze. The whole room was covered in holographic stars and nebulae (Thank you, Xavier, for this gift for our daughter).

The stars were on the walls, on the ceiling, they were floating in the air, passing each other. They shone softly, being the only light in the dark room. Looking at the window, you saw that the curtains were tightly closed and the sunlight barely made it through. This pleasant atmosphere was enhanced by a music box that played a soothing melody. Feeling like you were in outer space, you couldn't help but wonder how sweet Xavier was.

Finding the two most precious people in your life in your eyes, you smiled warmly. Xavier was lying in the beanbag chair, holding your baby to his chest. Both were sleeping, drooling. Your daughter was curled up on her daddy, holding her thumb in her mouth while his caring arms gently held her back. The more you looked at this picture, the more your heart melted. You felt proud that the two of you were able to make another incredible beauty.

You walked quietly on the floor, avoiding the scattered toys and coming up to them and sitting down on the floor next to them. Your gaze could not be torn from these sleeping faces. They looked so peaceful that you couldn't help but rest your head on Xavier's shoulder. He mumbled a little as he stirred, but continued to sleep as your hand lay on top of his on your daughter's back. You had loved Xavier madly, but now he had made you fall in love with him again without realizing it.

ZAYNE VERSION

Opening your eyes, you tried to banish the remnants of the day's sleep by stretching in bed. You could hear incomprehensible mumbling coming from behind the door. Getting up, you left the room and rubbed your sleepy eyes. Looking around the living room, you didn't find your husband and son, but you smelled a pleasant odor coming from the kitchen and went there.

— What are you doing here? – you asked as you entered the room.

— Mommy! – the black-haired boy exclaimed happily and jumped out of his father's arms and ran to you.

— My cupcake! – You melted, catching him in your arms and covering his sweet face with kisses. – What were you doing here with your daddy?

You glanced over at Zayne, who was standing by the kitchen counter, and you felt your heart skip a beat. As always, Zayne looked gorgeous, even in his home clothes. He was leaning on the kitchen counter with his hands, never taking his eyes off you. You caught little flashes of something dirty in his eyes and, barely holding back a smile, you looked at your son. Your and Zayne's son.

— Daddy and me made breakfast for mommy – his arms wrapped around your neck and he kissed you on the cheek.

— It was supposed to be a surprise, snowflake, – Zayne shook his head as he walked over to you and his hand gently rested on the child's head, ruffling his hair.

— Sorry, daddy, – answered, he looking into your eyes and murmured softly, taking your face in his small hands. – Mommy, we've made you breakfast, but it's a surprise, so don't tell anyone, okay?

Looking into his bright green eyes, you couldn't help but laugh.

— Okay, my good man, I won't tell anyone, – you hugged him tightly, holding him to your chest.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #loveanddeepspace #xavier #love and deepcpace x listener #love and deepspace zayne #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x reader

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milkteabinniechan · 2 months ago

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♡The Trickster's Treasure - Felix

MINORS DNI 18+ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: pixie! Felix x afab! reader

summary: In a mystical forest, you venture deeper than usual, drawn by enchanting sounds. Unbeknownst to you, a mischievous pixie observes you from the branches above. He delights in playing tricks, creating illusions and leading you astray with mirages of shimmering paths but soon you become lost...

warnings: hallucinations, mild panic attack, Felix is a little troublemaker

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows through the forest, your feet were starting to grow weary. You tilted your head up to the canopy of trees and tried to remember how you ended up here in the first place. Look high and look low, will you find me or find madness? You'll never know!

A small, taunting voice reverberated through the forest. Music. Music had been what drew you to these woods. Some kind of mystical, fantastical melody.

But now the melody has ceased and you were left with only the sounds of the forest. As nightfall consumed the flora and fauna, the once welcoming wood had suddenly taken on a very sinister appearance. Where once sunlight filtered through the leaves and illuminated the forest floor, now moonlight drenched the hardened oak trees and jagged rocks that lined your path.

Suddenly, a darkened underbrush opened up and cleared the way to a small path.

This way! Go this way!

That voice again. A playful, mischievous little voice that seemed to come from all directions. You looked around to find no other path available. Against your better judgment, you decided to listen to this mystery voice and walk down the small path.

As you walked, a new melody started up. A soft, inviting sound of harpsichord and piano keys. But where was it coming from? You quickened your pace down the small trail and the music seemed to grow louder. Slowly, your footsteps hastened to a run as the music intensified. Louder and louder it grew. Your ears pounded with the sound but your feet continued onward, determined to find the source of the sound. You covered your ears from the volume when, without warning, it stopped.

Silence. Nothing but silence all around you. Not even the sound of leaves crunching or birds chirping anymore. An ear-splitting silence that filled your eardrums worse than the music you had been following.

“Hello?! Can anyone hear me?!” You shouted. At least, you hoped you were shouting. You fell to your knees, your hands still covering your ears.

Tears started to coat your eyes as your mind raced with all the possibilities of what your life could be now. You couldn't even remember how you got here. What if a witch has cursed you? Your mother had always warned you about witch's curses. About the music they would play at night to lure small children into the forest to eat them. But you weren't a child anymore. What if you fell and hit your head? You could be dreaming now. But your body aches from running. And your arms were scraped up from tree branches. What if the whole world was silent now? What if you had fallen into a horrible, other-worldly dimension filled with unspeakable horribles that you could never escape from-

Yay! That was fun!

You shook yourself out of your spiral and turned your head to find a small, winged creature resting on your shoulder. He giggled playfully as he floated up in front of your eyesight. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the sight of his wings, their delicate iridescence shimmering in the forest moonlight. You reach out a hand slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal.

“What are you…?”

You kept your hand out in front of him and he perched himself on your index finger. He smiled and tilted his head, seemingly surprised that you didn't know what he was.

“Tell you what, if you play another game with me then I'll tell you what I am.” His grin quickly turned prankish.

“Another game?” Your face twisted with disgust. “I'm just trying to find my way back home.”

The small creature sighed softly, swinging his legs back and forth on your index finger. “Well, that's no fun! You can't go home yet! We were just getting started!” He giggled louder now.

“Don't you remember when I changed the direction of those paths? And you went in circles for hours? So funny!”

Your face turned beet red, your patience now running thin at the sight of this tiny creature and his games.

“That was you?!” You shouted. “Why would you do that?!”

The pint-sized creature held his stomach and laughed heartily. He pointed one finger and continued to giggle and guffaw at your expense, nearly falling off of your finger. Your patience now fraying at the edges, you shook your hand and brushed the tiny man off your finger.

“I'm leaving!” You yelled, stomping your foot for emphasis.

The creature suddenly ceased his laughter and flew close to your face. “Wait!” He waved his tiny arms rapidly. “I'm sorry! Don't go! It's been so long since I had someone to play with!” His eyes were round and pleading. “Just one more game! And I'll show you the way home, oh please!” He pressed his tiny hands together and begged.

You let out a deep, defeated sigh. It was not as though you had much choice but to trust him. There was no way you could find the path towards home on your own. You gave the miniscule creature a firm nod, holding your index finger up.

“First, you tell me your name and what you are. Then we can play a game. Deal?”

“Deal!” He fluttered around your face excitedly. His little wings flapping and vibrating with anticipation. “I'm a pixie!” He said proudly, puffing out his chest as he spoke. “And my name is Felix!”

Your eyes grew large as the realization of your situation sunk in. Faeries and pixies were among the many stories that your mother had told you. You just never thought they would be this much… trouble.

“Alright, Felix. What game shall we play?”

Felix thought for a moment, stroking his chin in deep thought. Then his face split into a devious smile.

“Hide and Seek! You count and I'll hide! Ready?”

You hadn't played hide and seek since you were a child. With work and taking care of your family, there never really was time for games anymore. A smile surprisingly appeared on your lips as you agreed to count while Felix flew off to hide. You start counting, your voice steady despite the urge to rush through the numbers. One… two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... TEN! You open your eyes and scan the area, searching for any sign of the tiny pixie. You tilt your head back once more, squinting up at the canopy above, searching for any movement among the leaves. You then crouch down, examining the undergrowth and behind logs, your voice growing more playful with each failed attempt.

“Not under here... not behind this bush…” You were actually having fun. You couldn't believe it, you could hardly recognize the sound of your own laughter tumbling out from beneath your own chest.

Felix’s laughter once again echoed through the forest. The sound of his jovial giggling bouncing and ricocheting off every branch and fallen log.

You'll never catch me!

Suddenly you stop dead in your tracks. You feel the stillness of the woods again but this time you are not afraid. Instead you reach your hand back to your left shoulder. You slowly reach back, gently grasping Felix in your large hand. “Ah-ha!” You bring him down to eye level, a victorious grin spreading across your face. “Gotcha!”

Felix laughs playfully once more. His excited squeals make you laugh loudly as well. The sounds mingle together in a perfect childlike harmony that you had forgotten was possible.

“I'll show you the way home now, human. But promise you'll come back to visit me? You're fun to play with!”

You opened your hand and watched Felix flutter from your palm and hover in front of your nose. You smiled and agreed to come back soon. As long as he doesn't trick you again.

“I promise!” Felix answered quickly, his fingers crossed behind his back.

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