#they put her out in the streets and FLOODED THEM and were surprised when it enabled a trauma response and she couldn't fight

[boyharder]

re; ableism in the hunger games, infantilism of the traumatized/shunning of the traumatized.

okay so i woke up & my awesome mutual @ongreenergrasses made a post about this too (i JUST saw it and like oooh my god. i agree so hard and so much) and i'm just going to talk about what i've been thinking.

the hunger games is doused in some really nasty thinking when it comes to mental health, and then even more so when it comes to disabilities, addiction and PTSD. i'm going to break down this post in parts based on each character who represents this, and any misc. ones will simply be the issue at hand alone. i find that suzanne writes a certain stereotypical sort of rhetoric that goes unchecked by this fandom because the majority are not those who have experienced these things, but the ones who *have* should at least bring this to more attention if possible. katniss to me, is one of the most ableist characters (not of her own knowing) as the good and mighty protagonist, and seeing people headcanon her as autistic is very interesting when her takes on people with any sort of difference in mental states is.. it comes into question constantly.

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

annie is very truthfully, a character who is only based on being the ‘poor mad girl who wins finnick's heart’ and yes, a victor with more severe PTSD which has come to affect her daily life, or at least when it comes to the games. suzanne collins’ constant use of the term ‘mad girl’ comes from katniss as protagonist, which reads as so ableist. watering anyone to their inpairments or their level of health is dehumanizing, and it reads to me like she regards annie as a sort of special case, like a wounded animal almost. the only positive talk about annie as a character minus her wedding, minus her relationship with finnick is when peeta explains annie's experiences in the games, which comes with empathy and understanding that most,,, are overbearing with. i see so many people water her down to just, being finnick's, and only being whatever level of trauma has enabled her consistent struggles. this i won't put a label on because i don't know what collin's was trying to achieve.

i even believe that finnick as her lover commits a level of ableist thinking in their relationship. he withholds information of the rebellion from her (despite her being extremely smart and just as career as anyone else from four,) and despite that not changing anything because she's still tortured, still abused in some way, he has a level of extreme overprotectiveness that reads as infantilism of his partner, and it seems to me like everyone considers finnick as annie's carer, and doesn't consider annie as his partner. yes his *lover,* but not someone on equal ground as far as their mental health issues go. the way annie is seen on both coins of fandom and book are incredibly ignorant and very, very harmful to disabled people. just because someone has a debilitating issue does not mean you get to treat them like they're a child, does not mean you go onto label them from that single trait. like i said, the phrase ‘the mad girl back home’ is so, so degrading to annie, who is a survivor and has overcome her experiences with respective scars. respect her humanity, because it's sub human thinking to call someone mad based on PTSD. leave that in the 1910s/20s.

𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍 & 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

(note that the haymitch part will be longer than the rest because i have enough content to go off of & this is my specialty)

mrs. everdeen and haymitch as characters both experience deprecating grief, to the extent where their mental health is tarnished from that. mrs. e becomes withdrawn and stiff from family; only able to function for the sake of work. her love, her husband dies and it emotionally disables her and severs a proper relationship to her two daughters. her mental health being dependant on the man/the loss of him and the fact that she discards her family is not only somewhat realistic for *some* cases, but also equally spitting out ideas of tradition and how "women need a man," with hazelle contrasting this and having to work for her 4 children to the point of blood. katniss’ perception of her mother's issue do come from hurt, but also internalised prejudice against those with mental health as she can see the extent of agony her mother is in and still loathes her, never leaving the door open for empathy.

the treatment of haymitch in both book and fandom is equally prejudiced and incredibly uneducated on addiction, and again — grief. haymitch self-medicates because his trauma, the extent of it is so mutilating to the point where he has to be flushing out memories on a constant basis. the fandom calls him a stupid drink, looks down on his intelligence. the books make him look volatile, squalored. the way in which suzanne collins describes his kitchen (which is filthy with old food, hazards, bottles and mice droppings) is VERY true of several people with severe mental health. katniss makes fun of him while he's in a state of approaching withdrawal, saying that the smell brings tears to her eyes, and at the end of the conversation ‘to take a bath.’ people with depression (which is what mrs. e and haymitch both have in different cases) find it difficult to do everyday chores and simple tasks, and katniss also repeats the idea of haymitch being unhygienic when she says ‘he's disgusting, but I'm greatful’ alongside commenting that it must've been a long while since he had bathed. haymitch is the richest man in the district, but not even that can stop the blatant hatred that katniss parrots. haymitch is to me, ill, and it reflects in his attitude during the games and when he's in withdrawal. suzanne hones in his mental state the most, and what he is a functioning alcoholic, and while that differs from regular alcoholism, people are consistent to demean his character with misconceptions and text books beliefs of what an alcoholic looks like. there are *many* takes, many examples of these sorts of people in society, but the constant abusive, violent, hateful, squalid, hedonistic ideas are parroted in fics when it comes to haymitch when he isn't.. any of those things. the society around him cares to consider the extent of his suffering and he doesn't have a good enough support system, as all whom he has loved are dead. i finish this by saying what i always do; he's extremely intelligent, extremely empathetic and wholly feeling, extremely caring and protective, and is meant to *defy* stereotypes. his ending however diminishes his ability to get better, and practically undoes any hope of his betterment despite it all.

𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐄

mrs. undersee is mentioned a few times through the trilogy, and when it isn't related to her late twin maysilee donner, or her daughter madge, it's her chronic illness. katniss basically only mentions her when referring to her constant headaches and her morphling addiction, which makes me wonder why suzanne collins doesn't go into depth about how she's taken care of, who she's getting support from as the wife of the district mayor, and how she functions as a mother. she is basically made useless to the narrative despite her important role as a mayoral first lady & family member to someone who experienced and was slaughtered in the arena. i see next to no content on her which upsets me as she does play such a big role in the scheme of things, and has connections to the everdeens, to haymitch and to the donner family. she's got next to nothing on her wikipedia, and it's unfortunate as she could've been a good example of chronic ilness in an already revered YA series (which now comes under scrutiny for the faults being uprooted.)

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[phone4pills]

IN THE BACK dealer!Chris x vet!Reader

drug dealing, car sex (only mentions), smoking and driving, use of y/n, slow lead up, no actual smut, long asf

You watched the blocks pass out the window, knee bouncing slightly as a cause of your nerves. Chris drove mindlessly, a blunt between his lips. Whenever you’d glance at him, his brows were slightly furrowed as he focused on the empty roads, trying to map out the dark city under the pale light of the moon. His window was rolled down ever so slightly to let out the smoke of his roll.

Each turn, each speed bump reminded you that you were closer and closer to your location. You’d agreed to being here, and you knew Chris wouldn’t have dragged you along. To be fair, he would’ve probably preferred that you stayed home. But you asked for it. You wanted the thrill. So he was giving it to you.

Eventually the car pulled up to some warehouse type building, slowly to a stop behind the place. Two or three cars were parked on the street. Chris made sure to park behind them, glancing at the ones in front to make sure nobody was inside of the vehicles. Then he turned opened his door slightly, head turning to you with a whisper. “Stay here for now.”

You nodded, grabbing his arm before he got out of the car. “Be careful.” The man chuckled. He chuckled. As though what you said was a joke to him. You weren’t surprised. He’d done this before, a lot. Like everyday. And you were telling him to be cautious. If anything, this was a game to him. A bit of fun. Fun and money, why would he be worried?

It was a few minutes before he returned. He helped you out of your side of the car and eyed you, in a way that you were unable to tell what was behind his eyes. You had a dress on, it was pretty short and it didn’t cover much, especially when it came to your chest. He sighed, taking off his hoodie and shoving it into your grip. You stared at him, confused. “On, now. They won’t be seein’ all that.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head. “Don’t start. You’ll be back in the car.” With an eye roll, you pulled the hoodie over your head and although you didn’t want to admit it, it was much warmer. Plus it smelled nice, like Chris. “As of now, you’re my girl okay? Don’t overdo it though, just try to imitate my pace.”

You nodded and the two of you made your way around the side towards the back of the building where there was a small door for entry. Upon your first step inside, your nose was flooded with the smell of drugs. You wanted to cough but you had to refrain from drawing attention to yourself. Men’s laughter and aroused groans filled the joint. There were older men smoking and drinking, laughing together and younger men making deals and discussing their ‘businesses’.

There were women of you age too, putting on what you could only describe as a show for everyone their. Some were on the floor, some on the arms of other men and even a good few grinding on laps and ‘who knows what’ in a more secluded area.

Instantly, someone approached Chris, a guy maybe his age or a little older. He glanced at you. “S’your girl?” He grinned devilishly, eyes feasting on your legs specifically. Chris nodded. “Yeah, so she won’t be doin’ all that,” His eyes flitted to the half-naked ladies on the sofas, “And I’m over here, quit staring.” His friend laughed, head falling back a little.

“I’m the least of your worries tonight with this pretty thing on your side. Surprised you’re claiming her, I’ve known you to come in here and entertain yourself with any girl that appealed to you. And you’d have em all with that kinda face too.”

You could tell he was trying to get some reaction out of you and though you were slightly uncomfortable, you were far from insecure. You knew Chris had his problems, and you also knew that you were different at the end of the day. All those girls could’ve given him as many dances as fish in the sea, but none of them compared to you. Hopefully.

As you became more immersed in the scene, you started to relax. Nothing was really a threat to you, as long as you stayed by a Chris. And you were starting to thank him internally for giving you his hoodie because the way the men in the room were eyeing any female. They were all as cocky as one can be, cat calling, pushing themselves against them, whispering things. It was just disgusting.

Chris found the guy he’d been looking for. He was doing shots with a few others when he saw Chris and grinned. “Finally. How many grams you got?” I reached into the hoodie pocket, feeling for the plastic bag with the powder inside. When I got it, I took it out and gave it to Chris. He held it out. “I got ya ten. The man hummed with approval, pulling a great amount of cash out of his back pocket and beginning to count it.

“Who’s this little miss?” He gestured towards me with his head. My eyes widened, assuming I’d have to introduce myself. “I’m, y/n. Im here with him.” The man handed Chris about three quarters of his money, then held out the rest of his notes to me. “Can I get a dance?” I chuckled nervously and I noticed how Chris��� jaw clenched.

“I… uh-”

“Fuck no. Y/n let’s go.” He took my hand attempting to lead me out of the place. I pulled my hand away. “But Chris, we’ve only been here an hour.”

The fire that lit in his eyes was enough to quiet me down. He really wanted to leave. I was grateful enough that he brought me along, but I wanted to get at least a drink. And beer pong looked sort of fun. “Don’t make me drag you, let’s go.”

You found yourself sat in the car with a frown on your face. You’d shoved Chris’ hoodie back into his hands the second you left and walked ahead of him. And now he was just making a joke out of you, taking his sweet time to get to the vehicle.

Finally, he arrived, but you were surprised to find that he’d opened your door instead of his. “In the back. Quick.” You didn’t have time to argue because he pulled you out of the car and walked you to the back. When you got in the back, you already knew what he wanted to do. There was a growing tent in his sweats and his movements were quick, getting in next to you.

“Chris… not here.” You couldn’t deny that you wanted him, maybe a bad as he wanted you. But you were scared. Embarrassed. It wasn’t the right place. And the windows were only slightly tinted. Either way, you found yourself removing your hoodie and pulling up your dress the second he asked.

Au tag list: @pvssychicken @sturnslcver @sophand4n4 @sofieeeeex @lovingregulusblack @spideylovin @leaningoutthewindow

Main tag list: @hearts4werka @pvssychicken @sturnslcver @sophand4n4 @sofieeeeex @lovingregulusblack @spideylovin

Aaaand done! Sorry guys, I cannot be asked to write smut rn. Shouldn’t be a problem since all of tumblr hates smut at the minute. Anyways, since we know that’s not true you guys can find smut in my MASTERLIST. But the part you’ve all been waiting for it coming in a few days!

- ©phone4pills

[sareeen]

The charm of snow

Based on this request. :)

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel surprises his wife at home and fulfils a childhood dream of her.

Warnings: fluff, mention of abuse, sweet, playful husband Azriel

Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like it! This is part 2 of Unknown Touches for a Lady, but it can be a standalone. (Here –> Part 1)

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistake! :)

—————————••••••••••••—————————

Azriel was attentive.

Y/N only really realised this when the clock struck quarter past three and the man suddenly stepped through the door with a slight, sweet smile on his face.

Y/N was lying on the sofa, almost swallowed up by one of the soft blankets, looking at her husband with a sleepy, surprised expression.

She quickly straightened and ran a hand through her hair, but winced as she caught her finger in one of the tangled strands.

She hadn't expected him, Azriel was busy with the Court's affairs, so Y/N had mostly only met him in the late hours, when thousands of stars shone in the sky. They had been married for three weeks and were still getting used to each other's closeness.

They hadn't slept together since their wedding night.

There had been a few coy kisses, a gentle peck on the cheek and a brief double-sided hug. Every night Y/N waited for Azriel to knock on the door of her bedroom, but all she heard were footsteps pausing for a second and then moving quickly on outside her door.

It was as if each time he restrained himself from knocking.

But now he stood there, his wings and muscular shoulders almost filling the doorframe. There seemed to be a restrained glint in his eyes as he spoke.

“It's snowing.”

Y/N's eyes widened and a surprised sound escaped her, then she rushed to the huge window overlooking the street and pulled the curtains.

Huge flakes of snow fell from the sky, the light wind carried them in a thousand directions, turning the landscape white.

Happy, screaming children rushed out of one of the buildings holding something in their hands – some with scarves, others with carrots.

“Shall we go outside?” asked Azriel quietly behind her. “We could go for a walk.”

Y/N's eyes watered and she sniffled, barely audible.

Ever since she was a little girl, she'd longed to see a snowfall - to feel the sensation of snow on her skin.

Two weeks ago, after a dinner, the subject came up between her and Azriel about what she would like to see of the outside world and the first thing she said was snowfall.

Her husband remembered and came straight home to get her. He's going to go with her and make her dream come true.

Warmth flooded her chest, her heart just fluttering with gratitude and happiness as she turned and nodded.

“Yes” her throat tightened with emotion as she said the words. “I really want to go outside.”

She almost flew to the rack, grabbed her coat and awkwardly wrapped her thick, fluffy scarf around her neck. She tucked her feet into the boots, but she was so scrambled that she would have fallen if Azriel hadn't caught her right arm and held her.

“Here we go, I'm ready!” she looked up at the spymaster, who grinned as Y/N blushed.

She was being too silly, she realized.

“Not yet” he shook his head serenely.

Y/N watched with furrowed brows as Azriel pulled a knitted cap from behind his back and pushed it on her head. It was so warm that within moments Y/N could feel herself beginning to sweat underneath and her hair sticking to her forehead.

“Now, you are ready”

Azriel opened the door for her and put his hand on her back to lead her out into the street.

An icy, shivering wind hit their faces and Y/N took a deep breath, letting the feeling wash over her. Her cheeks were almost tingling from the cold, but the wide grin still sat on her face.

Another first time.

She tilted her head up and closed her eyes. The tiny snowflakes found their way and caressed her cheek, and within moments melted away to leave her skin wet.

She reached out and looked at her palms, gazing at the six-pointed, star like snowflakes. They were beautiful, like tiny transparent crystals.

The touch of them left an icy, tingling sensation in her fingers, but it was all the more wonderful.

“Do you like it?” Azriel whispered in her ear as he placed a snow ball in her hand.

Y/N just stared at the ball.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Y/N asked, puzzled, and Azriel grunted.

“Throw it away” he suggested in a mischievous tone. “Maybe at him.”

Y/N looked in the direction where the shadowsinger was pointing and was stunned.

“I'm not going to throw a child!” she blurted out immediately and elbowed Azriel in the side, who laughed and dodged the hit.

The snow crunched under Y/N's boots as she took a few steps forward and in a sudden burst of excitement spun around and aimed at Azriel. Targeting the combat-skin covered chest, she pulled her arm back and swung. The snowball flew towards Azriel at high speed and then it was on target.

It hit her husband squarely in the face.

The shadowsinger was knocked backwards by the blow, while Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth in fright and turned pale.

“Cauldron” she hurried over to him and quickly brushed the snow off his handsome face, which was slightly flushed.

“I am so, so sorry, Azriel. Please don't be angry with me! I swear I was aiming for your chest.”

She felt fear flooding every inch of her body and anxiety clenched her stomach. Azriel may have been nice, but no man would tolerate being humiliated like that by his wife in the middle of the street.

When the spymaster raised his hand, Y/N hunched her shoulder and tensed in preparation for the punch, then closed her eyes.

But the pain and the sharp snap of his palm failed to register, so she gingerly peeked out from under her lashes and looked at her husband.

Azriel watched her with a frown, pity shining in his eyes. But at the same time, something ancient and destructive rage lingered in him, and Y/N winced again.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” inquired Azriel, his voice almost lost in the howling wind.

Y/N could only manage a small nod and tried to swallow the lump in her throat that made her feel like she was choking.

“I –“ Y/N cleared her throat and blew out a shaky breath. “I would understand.”

She hung her head, eyed the tiny embroidered designs on her black boots and waited for Azriel's reaction. But he just stood there motionless, which almost drove Y/N crazy.

“Can you please say something?” she blurted out nervously.

Azriel suddenly cupped her face in both hands and forced Y/N to look up at him. Her husband's face looked as if it had been carved from stone, his beautiful features now looking sharper in the wintry landscape.

“Y/N” his thumb ran over her skin in a soft, caressing motion. Gently, so gently that Y/N's breath caught in her lungs. “Look into my eyes.”

The golden-brown gaze almost burned Y/N's face and she found it hard not to turn her head.

“I'll never hit you” Azriel declared with firm determination and promise radiated from every inch of his body. “I swear it. I will cut off my hand before I lay a hand on you. Understand?”

“Yes” Y/N whispered.

“I don't want you to be afraid of me. You are my wife and so I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me.”

Azriel pulled his knife from the sheath hanging at his side and placed it in Y/N's hand, then shook her grip. The cool, murderous steel gave her chills.

“But if anyone hurts you, kill them with this,” he murmured quietly. “And those who have laid a hand on you in the past years, I will be the one to deal with.”

Y/N couldn't even speak as Azriel leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss tasted of anger, sorrow, and promise, and it pulled her off her feet and clung to Azriel's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his hand holding her tightly by the waist, almost devouring her.

Azriel's lips were warm on hers, his tongue begging for entrance. Y/N opened her lips and their tongues intertwined, following each other's dance sweetly.

They broke away from each other, both gasping for breath and Y/N was almost certain she was going to faint. A hotness flooded her guts and Azriel took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Let's go, darling.”

They walked hand in hand past the rows of shops and Y/N was still dazed from the kiss and the events that had just taken place.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they had been walking for a few minutes and she could gather her thoughts.

The city was beautiful, with wreaths and red bows decorating the streets everywhere. Snow was falling heavily from the sky, making the roofs of the houses look like they had been sprinkled with icing sugar.

Azriel didn't answer, but went into one of the shops and pulled her along behind him.

The little bell above their heads rang, the heat inside hit Y/N and she inhaled the scent of cinnamon. It was a tiny, cluttered room and she tried to make out what all the wooden stuff was, leaving almost no room for a mug.

The shadowsinger picked up one of them, a very large one with a string hanging from one half, and approached the vendor to pay.

Afterwards he turned to her with a smile of such delight that she was unable not to smile back.

“Come.”

He led her to a back door and outside they found themselves at the top of a hill.

Y/N looked down at the long, snow covered ground and looked expectantly at her husband, who had set the wooden thing down and was patting the top.

“Sit on it,” Azriel commanded kindly, and Y/N immediately sat down. She had no idea what this was going to turn into.

“So we're looking at the scenery?” she asked him, but she looked around cheerfully. “I like it.”

Azriel gave a hearty laugh and sat down behind her. Her back was against his muscular, warm chest, which made her feel relaxed and she was about to nestle into his embrace when Azriel began to squirm.

He pulled his wing up so it didn't touch the snowy ground and handed Y/N the rope that connected to the front of the structure.

“Hold on!”

With that, he swung his legs into momentum and kicked away, and they started down the drop.

The breakneck speed and the snow in her face made Y/N scream, but Azriel just laughed behind her and wrapped his huge body around her. The trees blurred in her vision and her ears whistled because of the wind, but somehow she began to enjoy the rush.

There was something liberating about hurtling to the bottom of the hill, leaving all her troubles behind for a moment and just enjoying it.

“Pull the rope!” shouted Azriel, his voice deep and wonderful in her ear.

Y/N leaned back slightly, straight into her husband and tightened the rope, causing them to slow down.

Eventually the contraption they were sitting on stopped as they got down to the field and just sat there quietly for a few moments while Azriel stood up.

I've been married to a child, Y/N thought to herself in amazement, but there was a bubbling joy inside her.

The shadows surrounding Azriel crept fiercely around his ears and his eyes brightened.

“I heard that” he smiled wryly. “That's not what I remember you thinking on our wedding night.”

Y/N playfully, but laughing, nudged Azriel's leg, who began to pull her up the hill.

“What do you call this thing?” Y/N asked, laying her feet on the two long wooden planks.

“Sledge” Azriel replied and repositioned the sledge just as before. “We're sledding, Y/N”

He pulled back a little and grabbed the back of the sled. The scarred hands, tanned face and golden brown eyes evoked feelings in Y/N that she couldn't even express.

Maybe she could.

She would have loved to throw herself on him and do all the things she had done on their wedding night.

“Be careful and pull the rope like before” Azriel suggested and Y/N panicked.

“What?”

However, Azriel started to run and gave a big push, releasing the sledge, and Y/N started to race back down into the deep.

She screamed as if Azriel had sent her to her death - though that wasn't far from the truth.

She yanked on the rope, but lost her balance and fell sideways in front of the field, off the sled and rolled for a few moments, then, face down in the snow, came to a stop.

She heard the flapping of wings and Azriel's desperate voice, but her shoulder was already shaken.

He rolled her towards him and laughter burst out of her. She kept tearing and clutching her stomach, then managed to speak.

“Oh, I was so scared!” she wiped her face. “But let's do it again!”

Azriel sighed in relief, but smiled sweetly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don't scare me like that anymore.”

They sledged until dark and Y/N's lips were almost frozen in a grin by the time they got home.

She had never been so happy in her life.

She wanted to cling to Azriel and never let go. Her heart began to beat faster when he escorted her to her room in their flat and pressed a long, honey sweet kiss to her lips.

“Azriel?” she toyed with the strands of sultry, slightly curling hair that frizzled at the top of his neck.

“Yes?” The spymaster murmured and ran his hand soothingly up and down Y/N's back.

“Thank you.”

The shadowsinger looked down at her and Y/N's legs trembled at the golden brown gaze.

“Me too” he replied, then stepped back and walked towards his own room.

Y/N sank her teeth into her bottom lip and hesitated.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” he turned to her immediately.

It was as if the shadows had already whispered Y/N's question to him and he was just waiting for her to ask it.

Y/N looked over him, took in his muscular frame, his charming face, and felt a warmth flood over her.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“To sleep?” Azriel's lips twitched in amusement.

“We don't have to sleep.”

Y/N giggled as he moved towards her, gasping for air as he almost pushed her into the room with his imposing body.

The door closed behind them with a loud slam.

[keerysfreckles]

falling in — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when a burnt down mall sends y/n to steve

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve got his ass beat (who's surprised), s3 spoilers duh, pure fluff/comfort, blood and injuries mentioned, pretty detailed makeout session

a/n: for my wife @keerysbrowneyes ily

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n sat nervously at the edge of her couch in her small living room. she watched her small flickering tv at the other end of the room with nothing but worry.

helicopters roaring, a blazing fire and multiple reporters surround the loved starcourt mall. y/n's heart almost burst out of her chest when one reporter stated most people made it out safely.

steve harrington was the first person to flood her mind. the girl hasn't heard of him for the past three days, which only made her nerves skyrocket.

"sources say scoops ahoy workers were at the scene, with multiple young kids and parents. . ."

y/n was out the door, struggling to put on her other shoe while running to her car.

—

y/n didn't even let the car come to a complete stop before she was running past concerned townspeople, reporters and cops. she easily slid under the caution tape and fit in between two firetrucks, not bothering to listen to the cops and other authorities yelling for her to stop.

y/n looked from left to right. she first saw nancy and jonathan, and robin sitting in the back of one ambulance. will was with his mother, with el and mike besides them. lucas was comforting max. she looked at the last ambulance and saw steve.

as soon as their eyes met, time slowed. steve dropped the blanket from his shoulders and y/n's worn out converse hit the asphalt again.

steve stood from the ambulance, and for the first time tonight a smile broke out onto his face. he didn't care it was hurting his eye.

his arms are wide open once y/n reaches him. hers instantly wrap around his shoulders as he lifts her off the ground.

"you're okay," y/n lets the tears fall from her eyes, her voice is strained. "you're here, you're really okay."

steve kisses the side of her head before setting her back on the ground, however neither of them let go of each other.

"i thought i lost you," y/n admits.

steve chuckles, "you could never get rid of me that easily."

y/n leans back, her eyes roaming over the boy in front of her. she sees the large bruise surrounding his swollen eye, and the tiny cuts on his lips.

steve copies her actions, not believing the girl in his arms is really here. this feels too much like a dream that he didn't want to wake up from.

y/n puts her hand gently on steve's cheek just as a tear falls from his right eye. his voice is soft and broken, "can you take me home?"

y/n nods immediately, and carefully takes his hand in hers to lead them both to her car. they're stopped briefly by a cop, to which they explain y/n would be taking steve home.

they sit in the car for a moment, while an abba song plays quietly over the radio. y/n leans forward to turn it off. she didn't think steve was in the mood to dance to anything, let alone listen to a happy pop song.

"are you okay?" y/n knew it was a stupid question to ask, but she had to ask anyway.

steve only nods, as he wipes his cheeks as more tears fall. y/n simply gives him her hand. his rough hand holds onto it the whole drive back to y/n's small one bed-one bath house.

"wait, i thought you were taking me home," steve announces once he watches her turn down the wrong street.

"you really think i'd let you stay home alone after whatever you went through?"

steve shrugs.

"how hard did they hit you?" y/n lets out an airy laugh, which steve reciprocates.

y/n looks over to the passenger side after parking on the street in front of her dark red door.

"thank you," steve's voice fills the silence of the car.

the two walk out of the and in the housr wordlessly. they both leave their shoes in a pile by the front door, and steve follows y/n to her room. he sees she left the tv and lights on, guessing she left in a hurry.

"you take a shower okay? then if you want i can help with the other cuts."

steve gratefully accepts y/n's offer. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding once he sits on the edge of y/n's bed. she comes out of the bathroom after starting the shower, and making sure it wasn't too hot.

steve holds his arms open again, making y/n walk towards him. she stands between his thighs as he rests his head against her chest, hearing the pulse of her heartbeat. the girl leans down to place a kiss on his matted curls.

"i'll be here when you get out," y/n whispers into his hair.

as steve showers, he's careful when he reaches and cuts or bruises, and can't help but let more tears fall. by the end of it he couldn't tell if it was tears or water running down his face.

he's quick to dry off and doesn't mind the water falling back onto his face and neck from his wet hair.

he noticed his dried bloody work uniform was replaced by a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt and boxers. he smiled at the thought of y/n keeping a pair of his clothes here for him.

steve leaves the bathroom and is met with y/n coming back into her room with a small basket in her hands.

"hey," she smiles towards steve, "how are you feeling?"

"that was a must needed shower," he chuckles.

"what's that for?" he points to the wooven basket now placed on the bed.

"a couple things to help with your cuts."

after steve came over to y/n's house their junior year, with the aftermath of a fight with jonathan byers, the girl knew to keep a first aid kit just for steve.

y/n instructs for steve to lay on her bed. he gladly let a loud sigh leaves his lips once his back hits the mattress, making y/n chuckle.

she sits on the left side of steve, making her be in the middle of the bed. she easily leans over him to turn on the lamp placed on the night stand. steve can't help but blush at the close proximity.

"these are just wipes, to get any extra dried blood off," y/n starts walking him through the steps.

she's careful when wiping around the cuts on his lips, and is surprised he only winces once.

she moves to his hairline and bruise covering his eye. the swelling has gone down drastically, and she can now look at both of his beautiful brown eyes.

steve keeps his hands folded on his stomach while y/n takes care of him. she goes to the next step and takes peroxide and cotton balls to the cuts.

after the cotton meets his lips he grabs y/n's wrist. she mutters out many apologies, not meaning to hurt steve more.

"it's okay," he stops her rambling apologies, "just hurts way more than i thought it would."

y/n continues treating his wounds. every so often steve's eyes would float to her features. to her concerned eyes, crinkling at the corners. or to her hair that kept falling over her ear, to which she always put back, yet it never stayed.

y/n finally takes a warm towel, steve guessed was from the dryer, and she dabbed it over his lips and eye. she watched his shoulders relax as she held it over his eye.

"are you alright?" she felt like she asked the question a million times tonight.

steve nods, "never better."

another comfortable silence fills the room. steve now sits up, making y/n bring the towel to her lap. steve breaks the silence.

"did you always have that freckle?" his thumb traces the light freckle on her cheek. she blushes from the contact. before she answers, steve moves his hand to fix the strands of hair that have fallen in front of her ear. his hand goes back to holding her cheek.

y/n's eyes move between both of steve's brown ones.

"steve," y/n warns in a whisper as he starts moving closer to her.

"i want you y/n. thats the one thing i've never been more sure of tonight."

his soft words leave a tickling breath over y/n's lips.

y/n makes the move to lean forward. her right hand reaches to hold onto steve's bicep as her lips collide with his. the kiss only lasts for a few seconds before y/n pulls away. her cheeks are flushed as she sees steve's widened pupils.

steve simply pulls her back to him with the hand that was still on her cheek. he turns his head to deepen the kiss, and he can't help but smile against y/n's lips after feeling her hand move to his neck. she grips the damp hair, threading her fingers through it.

steve's left hand goes to y/n's lower back as he moves her to lay down. he's now hovering over her, with his thighs falling between hers.

the two pull away, both with blown pupils, flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"do you want me to stay–"

"yes."

steve couldn't even finish his question before y/n answers quickly and pulls him down tp kiss him again, with much more hunger than before.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 10

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

August 1983

Night falls onto Hawkins. The street lamps flicker on. A hopeful Eddie sits amongst the clutter of his living room. One of those street lamps illuminate the Forest Hills Trailer park just enough to cast shadow across each of the tiny trailers littered across the property. Your trailer is the only one of interest to Eddie.

The trailer has been quiet almost all day. In the morning, Eddie recalls Robin’s mother picking you up. There’s no clue what the two of you get up too when you’re together. Shopping. Chatting. Drinking coffee. Coffee is just about as bitter as Eddie feels right about now.

You must have come home for a moment when Eddie wasn’t watching your house, just to take your mom's car out for a joyride. That couldn’t have come off any creepier. Eddie doesn’t normally watch your house. He just waits for the opportunity to come by, since Gareth has already rejected the suggestions that he’s called him about earlier. He won’t say, but Gareth is busy this evening.

Jeff’s line goes straight to his answering machine, so he sighed loudly into the phone and hung up. Hopefully, Jeff hears the message before his mom does. She’ll cry that someone is out to get her. If only she would put away the fiction that these newspapers are printing these days. The Devil hasn’t touched Hawkins, and nor does he exist.

It becomes clear to Eddie that you are also busy this evening. What are you up too? Your mom’s car is gone, so either she has come home quietly for once or you’ve taken the car. Taking lessons from Eddie has boldened your actions. If the cops were to catch you, you would be thrown a heavy fine. The cops don’t pay much attention unless you’re a Munson, it seems.

Eddie kicks a couple empty soda cans trying to plant his feet on the coffee table. It doesn’t bother him any. The remote for the television is just out of his reach, despite having longer limbs. Something he got from his father, Wayne would say. There are a lot of similarities between the two men that Eddie avoids breaking down.

Al Munson is a waste of oxygen. The bastard can’t even be bothered to give him a phone call. He can’t blame Eddie either. Eddie doesn’t have his number. Hell, he doesn’t even know where Al is. Maybe he’ll visit his mom’s grave. Yeah, he found out she’s taking a dirt nap a few months back. It surprised him that this news doesn’t affect him as much. Maybe she should have tried showing up for a birthday.

Eddie dwells until he becomes apart of the living room furniture. The dimness of the room helps rock him into a meditative state. Although, his eyes draw to the parted curtain that he can peak through to see if you’ve come home yet.

The trailer is still dark.

Lights begin to flood the trailer park, and the familiar crunch of gravel has Eddie’s ears perked up. You could be home.

It is not you.

Uncle Wayne is home from a day at the plant. This would be a short visit. He has plans with his coworker, who stays in his car to keep the engine warm.

Ugh.

Eddie sinks back into position on the living room couch. A metal spring prods him in the rear.

Wayne stomps up the front steps of the home, before jangling his key in the lock. His nephew surprises him on the couch. The home is dark enough to be empty. Yet, Eddie sits unsettled amongst the dirt of the living room. Damn. He could have at least cleaned up.

“What are you doing, son?” Wayne begins to shred his work boots to trade them for something less filthy.

“My friends have abandoned me,” Eddie says through a haze of smoke from the joint he had earlier.

Wayne has never reprimanded Eddie for smoking weed in the home because every once in a while Wayne too needs to relax. It’s an unspoken rule between the men to never speak about weed. As long as Wayne doesn’t catch Eddie with a joint, he can ignore the smell, then Eddie is free to do as he pleases. It doesn’t cause him too many problems, and that’s all that matters.

However, if Wayne has the cops at his door for something Eddie has done at two in the morning, Wayne will rain hellfire on the tiny trailer home. Eddie will not become his father.

The theatrics have become normal to Wayne, so when the boy throws his gangly limbs across all parts of the couch, he snorts. You must have plans.

Eddie doesn’t have much of a brain when it comes to you. The thoughts are crumbled into a pile of mush. If he’s not careful, Eddie’s tongue might drop from between his lips. When he starts panting, Wayne will have cause for concern.

“You’re never home on a Saturday,” Wayne points out.

“I have nothing to do,” he sighs.

His uncle mutters, “so you’re sitting in the dark?”

“Are you going senile on me, old man?” Eddie lifts his head.

“Watch it, boy,” uncle Wayne points a thick finger at him. “I’m heading out. Long day at the plant. Er- clean something. Would you?”

Eddie groans.

“Love you too,” Wayne stacks a ball cap over his head, before leaving his nephew. There’s no way that he’ll actually clean. But, Wayne tries.

It’s his boredom that Eddie does get up, and he does begin to wipe the coffee table of beer cans, soda cans and old cups that never made their way to the sink. He doesn’t enjoy living in a pigsty, but the maid is away on a vacation. Chuckling to himself, Eddie finds the letter from his school that he’s been hiding from Wayne. Granted, underneath a stack of other mail isn’t the best hiding spot. Eddie was in a rush when he saw the blasted letter. It had come flat and obscene. Bold red lettering spells out ‘IMPORTANT’ then follows ‘To the Guardian of Eddie Munson,’ as if they don’t know Wayne Munson by now. Everyone knows the soiled Munson name.

Honestly the town humors him. Even pretending to have an ounce of care for Eddie is laughable. They just want to bend his mind into something socially acceptable. The long hours behind a school desk, bouncing from classroom to classroom has left Eddie enough time to think. If he ends up behind a corporate desk, twiddling his thumbs as the hours creep by and worrying that his typing speed will get him the boot from tight wad boss, Eddie might just loose his mind.

This year he might not graduate. It’s too soon to tell, but his teachers all give him the gray stare. Eddie’s dad brought an estranged relationship to the halls of Hawkins High School when he attended. All of the Munson’s to follow would be the least impressive to them. Lucky for Eddie, he’s the only burden that Hawkins will ever have to deal with. Well, unless his dad was able to charm himself into another woman’s pants and she produces another Munson. That’s one step closer to world domination.

There is a knock coming from the front door leading Eddie to believe that Wayne has forgotten his keys. He arms himself with a crass joke about Wayne’s age. When he swings the door open, however, Eddie finds his friend Jeff bouncing at his heels about something.

“What’s up?”

Jeff allows himself into the trailer knowing that Eddie doesn’t mind hosting. After all, he’s come all this way just to be told to go home? Please!

“You got food?” Jeff beelines for the kitchen. He doesn’t have to open the fridge to know it’s empty. Neither Eddie nor his uncle are famous for their cooking. No, he opens the freezer where there are stacks upon stacks of frozen meals. It begins to get a bit sad to Jeff that Eddie hardly gets the chance to sit down to a warm family meal.

That’s the privilege his own family holds. Mom works a nine to five at a beauty salon, and dad delivers papers. They hardly get a moment to see each other, but when they do the family is exactly what you see on television. Well, maybe not exactly. Hey! That’s what he gets for being Black in America.

“Turkey dinner,” Jeff finds the meal he wants, and before turning on the microwave he calls to Eddie, “roll up a joint! Turn on the tv!”

Eddie only lets Jeff boss him around because he’s inside the home. There’s no need to rip his head off. Or, maybe Eddie likes that Jeff is so comfortable in his little shack. They’ve only known each other for a few years. Shorter than Gareth. He still has to tell Gareth that it’s alright to poke around for food, or that there are extra blankets in the cubby down the hall.

“I’m gonna use your bathroom,” Jeff turns the corner. “That one in the microwave is for you. I know you ain’t eat. I’ll warm up another one for me.”

This makes Eddie roll his eyes. But, his stomach disagrees. The fact is Eddie hasn’t eaten much today. If not for watching your house, Eddie might have paid more attention to his own surroundings.

Eddie pops in a movie that he’s seen a dozen and a half times. It’s a comedy. That pairs well with how high they are about to be within the hour.

The faucet switches on in the bathroom, and Eddie has perfected a joint for them to share. He races to the kitchen to pull out the dinner in the microwave. Hissing as the tips of his fingers sear across the tin dish. You’d think he’d know better by how many of these things he’s eaten in his past seventeen years of living, but Eddie would be one to burn his fingers off.

Eddie does slide in another frozen meal after he takes the one that Jeff has warmed for himself.

By the time he makes rounds back to the couch, Jeff has taken a lighter to the joint. A cloud of thick gray smoke passes through the air. The joint is handed to Eddie.

“Any word from Gareth? He’s missing a great night,” Eddie half jokes.

Jeff shakes his head, “I called the house, but his mom says that he’s on a date.”

“A date?” Eddie scrunches his nose in thinking. “He told me he was busy.”

“Yeah, on a date.”

“He lied to me?” He didn’t know whether he should feel hurt, angry or maybe a bit of pride. To lie to Eddie is the greatest sin.

“Who cares? Pass that to me,” Jeff says with an open palm.

For the sass, Eddie takes a second hit. The weed will make him forget this conversation even happened. But, while he can plant his two feet on earth.

“‘s busy too,” he throws your name in the ring, “you don’t think they. . .?”

Jeff tilts his head at Eddie. Indeed, your home is quiet for a Saturday. Even Jeff knows you favor Saturday’s for their potential. You like reading as many books as you can get your hands on. Saturday’s are prime real estate for book reading according to you.

The idea has crossed his mind. How Gareth has been acting towards you? You haven’t exactly shot him down. Since coming home from the camping trip this summer, you’ve been much quieter, whether during band rehearsals or whenever the guys get together. You have a misty glow about you too. It’s possible, but- would you really go as far as to date Gareth?

Something blasts on television. The characters are swarming each other in clouds of dust, and ridiculous plots. Jeff and Eddie throw themselves back in a fit of laughs. The plant they’ve been sucking on begins to coat their skin, and bathe in their blood. They’ve forgotten their conversation, and everything becomes quite silly just then.

-> <-

A bowling ally to you, always meant spending a fair time with your mother. She taught you how to hold the ball in your little fingers, and she helped guide you down the right lane. You could feel how cherry your cheeks would get when you knocked even one pin down. Success! Now, years later, the same nostalgia washes over you. Even though you don’t have your mother to play with anymore, you find a new companion in Gareth. He’s much handsomer than your mother too.

When you came back from the camping trip, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing about him. It’s silly to have such a school girl crush on the one person you thought despised you. He admitted to his jealously over the phone one night, and asked if you wanted to go bowling with him the following weekend.

You’ve now forgotten about the tornado that zipped through your room tonight. The perfect outfit couldn’t be described, nor could it be found. Although, Gareth disagrees. You’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

Gareth holds his breath as you throw your last ball down the lane. If you hit both pins down now, you win the round. Clack! The pins scrape the lane.

The dance you do at the end of the lane warms Gareth’s heart like hot chocolate in the winter. You spin around gleefully.

“Great game,” he says.

Your stomach growls, “pizza break?”

The pizza parlor is just a step off the bowling lanes. Crowds are thick at this time, and Gareth slots his hand into yours to keep from losing you. Hopefully, he misses how pink you’ve gone. He doesn’t.

Gareth orders your favorite slice of pizza, but not without a rebuttal of how plain a cheese slice of pizza can be. You disagree. There’s something soothing about eating just the cheese and the bread. Especially, if they’ve seasoned the crust right.

To be honest, the pizza isn’t even warm. Gareth can read that on your face the moment you take your first bite. Then, he suggests you head somewhere different for dinner that isn’t this cheap pizza crap. You convince him that it’s perfectly fine - not wanting to spend money neither of you have. Just getting into the bowling alley alone is expensive. The dollars ran you each six bucks that Gareth happily forked over. You’re priceless.

This might be the first date, but Gareth already wants the dates to continue. If you’ll have him. You spend the evening getting to know each other a bit better, while avoiding the family question. Gareth is the only child between his mother and his absent father. Unlike you and your father, Gareth regularly visits his in Indianapolis. Gareth’s mother and father split on the difference of opinions about where to live. She wanted to be in a small town, and he didn’t want to leave his corporate position.

“Two Christmases,” Gareth lightens the mood.

You snicker, even though you hardly get one Christmas. Would your mom even be home this year? It may be another Christmas spent with the Munson’s. Last year, Wayne brought you over since your mom was passed out on the couch and had completely forgotten the holiday. You shared laughs over a roast that Wayne worked extra hours for. It was one of the best holidays in years.

“I’m really into journaling,” you tell Gareth when he asks about what you want to do with your life. Honestly, the thought has crossed your mind. Nothing creases your brows more than when you have a pen and a piece of paper between your fingers.

Gareth finishes off a bite of his last slice, wipes his hands on a napkin and then asks, “is that why you’re always nose deep in those diary looking things?”

You flush. It’s true. Wherever you are - school or home - you always carry around a notebook to jot down - well, anything. Although, you didn’t know you had been so obvious about it. Humans are so interesting in their average life. Do we ever really stop to think about what we are doing? The emotions that we have? You’re quick to jot this moment in your head to put on paper later.

“No one has ever asked about my writing before,” you smile at this, “but, it’s all silly. I don’t know if any of it’s important.”

“I’d love to read them someday,” he offers.

“It’s not done yet,” you shy.

Gareth nods understandingly, “when it’s finished.”

Gareth knows that Eddie is fond of getting those journals for you to write in. The exchange is polite and friendly. Some of them are more colorful and more loud than others. They come in all colors. Gareth can see when you’re getting close to being done with them when the pages gain weight with the ink from your pen. He’s always been curious to read between the lines if the written word wasn’t so private.

The end to your writing has yet to fall into your lap. Pieces of the puzzle you’ve begun can’t seem to fall directly into place. It will take years for you to sort through just the corner pieces. The center is what really matters. It’s the glue that holds the story together. The pages open to your inner most deep thoughts. You’ve hardly begun to untangle the web that lives inside your brain.

Life might be much easier for you if you could reach between your ears to prod at the sticky flesh that your brain has to offer. Along the muscle, you might find the words that you’re desperately trying to say. That goes the same for paper, and for real life.

Anxieties creep against your spine about the future. You won’t let them rattle you for long. The boy in front of you distracts these thoughts from surfacing when he dashes his fingers across the back ridges along your hand. Your face softens, though you’re not sure when it got so stiff.

Gareth can read you well. Something he’s picked up on over the years. Your face gets so tight in the middle. Even your nose gets scrunched when you’re overthinking. To distract you, Gareth doesn’t want to scare you by word of mouth. He’s much gentler to you. He cares for you. Already, you’ve made a mark on him that no other blonde, brunette or - well - anyone could. You’ve known each other for so long, yet this past summer Gareth has really opened his eyes.

The way you smell captivates him. He’s entranced by the way that vanilla could become so intricate and intimate along your skin. You’ve certainly sprayed yourself with just enough perfume before you met him here tonight. Not only this, but you’ve freshly washed. The skin on your hands is still soft and plush. Your bracelet jangles against the surface of the table. When it does, you adjust the heart charm facing the ceiling, so to not interfere on your date.

Date. Gareth could have done summersaults when you agreed to tonight. It won’t be something he admits to you, but he did a few laps in his living room. His mom caught him. Surely something that will be brought up in the future.

The date continues. Eventually, the slices of pizza disappear leaving only sad crumpled plates. Gareth folds his in half, before throwing his and yours away. Another round of bowling follows.

“I want a rematch!” Gareth declares in a teasing and a joking sort of tone.

You play along, and challenge, “I can’t wait to kick your ass twice!”

“Bring it on!”

This round is different. Gareth has his eye locked on first prize. The technique he uses to swing the ball back is focused and precise. You want to ask if he’s ever bowled on a team. But, soon you’re up. Maybe you’re out of your element. Perhaps you quicken your shot, just so you can watch the way Gareth moves during his turn. The muscles in his arm strain and flex in his swing. When did he get those?

You have to pull away, and start thinking with your head.

The score is set. Either knock these pins down and win, or- Clang! Crash! Bang! You droop your head in defeat. Gareth has taken the win!

“Woohoo!” Gareth victory laps in front of the lane. The dance is a bit corny and embarrassing, but he likes to see the look on your face. Twisting your false frown into a congratulatory smile, you can’t help but join him.

Gareth slows down when you get close to gun. The faint Italian seasoning still bites your taste buds from the pizza you had earlier. Hot breath hits his lips. He initiates a kiss.

Your hands find the zipper of his open sweater on either side. Pulling him closer, he stumbles before finding perchase at your hips. You couldn’t stay there for long too engrossed in each other. A round of hollers break the moment. They’re some of the jerky popular kids from school.

Their hollers are sarcastic and mean.

Gareth doesn’t want to let them spoil the night, so he holds onto your hand before squeezing his way through the crowd. There is also an arcade buried in the bowling alley. Somewhere just the left of the mediocre cafeteria.

The arcade is much less popular - surprising. As soon as you step to the first machine, you understand why.

“It needs quarters,” you tap the buttons.

Gareth ransacks his wallet, “I’ll be right back.”

Gareth zips off to the half-alert teen behind the register where they got the pizza from. You wait patiently observing. The way Gareth tips his head to him, and accepts the change. He even passes a genuine ‘thank you’ that sits just right inside your head as a lasting memory of why you like him.

The arcade games are quite fun. You’re not good at any of them. Gareth says with practice you could be a real pro.

“Is that your way of telling me there is a second date,” you guide yourself deeper and deeper through the maze. This is your second attempt at Dragon’s Lair. One of Gareth’s favorites - go figure.

Gareth points to the screen, “watch out!”

The knight you play as becomes quickly squashed and buried by a thick layer of stone. He’s not going to make it out of that one with a few stitches.

Gareth shares a hearty laugh with you that warms you up. He surprises you by pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then following this by whispering your ear.

“A second date would be nice.”

You blush, “we haven’t finished the first one.”

Gareth hums. “I know. And, I miss you already.”

When he reaches back into his pocket, he comes to find that you’re all out of quarters. The night has been more than fun than any night before. Your cheeks burn from the smile that couldn’t be swiped off your face.

As you leave the building, hand in hand, Gareth tilts the watch band on his wrist. The time reads exactly nine in the evening. You’re supposed to be home soon.

“I had fun tonight,” he kicks the ground of it’s loose gravel.

You nod in agreement, “I did too. Thank you for this. And, I’ll call you.”

Tonight, you had brought your mom’s station wagon. You want to offer Gareth a ride, but he insists his mom will pick him up shortly. Saying this has Gareth going pink in the face. As soon as he can, he will learn to drive. He likes the image of him behind the wheel, while you sit comfortably in the passenger seat.

Before his mom can pull up to the bowling alley to embarrass him through and through, Gareth presses one more kiss to your lips. Your hands reach for the back of his head, just slightly. The pair break off in time for a familiar face to show up this evening.

Out of anyone this evening, neither of you wanted to be drilled and questioned by your shared friend Eddie Munson. The man who could squash Gareth under his thumb like a bug. You didn’t want to hide your blossoming relationship with Gareth from him. You just wanted time to yourself. There isn’t anything to talk about yet. Although, you could give Robin a call tonight and chat her ear off about how much of a gentleman Gareth has been. She is of the belief that this might become a bad idea because to her neither of you have anything in common. Nonetheless, she’s supportive of your experiments.

Anyway, the man you find yourself running into is probably the second worse case scenario because he could easily let it slip that he’s seen you at the bowling alley. Eddie’s uncle Wayne stops his conversation with his coworker John. The men were sharing work stories when he spots you making eyes at the boy next to you.

Ah, he remembers date nights well. Wayne could prattle on about the times he took out fare Rosie Davis in his younger days. They went to hot spots like the bowling alley too, or the diner. He couldn’t call her the one that got away though. That spot remains for dear Cloudy. Ah, Cloudy. Of course, he will spare the details. The woman was like a dream to him - she still reaches parts of his memory that he loves to pry out every once in a while.

Wayne pulls back a bit when he recognizes Eddie’s friend Gareth standing beside you. The two are usually together on Saturdays, which makes more sense as to why his young nephew is taking over his living room in the dark. Had he known you were out . . . together? Bah! None of his buisness. You kids are hard to keep track of these days.

“Well,” Wayne acknowledges, “good evening, you two.”

You fumble nervously, “hi, Wayne.”

Gareth flicks his wrist to wave hello. “Hey, Wayne.”

“Oh, John,” Wayne politely introduces the man. “These are a couple of Eddie’s friends.”

“Nice to meet you!” The man beside him is Wayne’s age. He has a hat perched askew atop of his head to hide the balding patch missing of course curly hair that’s throwing off his age. It’s not doing its job, but that’s not for you to point out.

Wayne flicks his gaze to the bowling alley, “it’s crowded in there tonight?”

“It is,” the parking lot is nearly full, and people are starting to park on the street.

This causes the man to lift his eyebrow, and dips his head to your height. A flimsy smile rests on his face.

“It’s probably so crowded that I’ve forgotten the faces I’ve seen tonight, hm?”

Wayne already has the clue by the stiffness of your back that Eddie probably has no idea that you’re here tonight. Especially, that you’re together. He’s getting old, but he’s not any stupider now than he was yesterday. Besides, there may be a day that you will return the favor to him. Not that he expects you too.

Your faces twist into something of gratitude.

“Have a good evening, you two,” Wayne turns to John, and with a pat on his back they walk into the bowling alley.

Gareth sighs, “that was close.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Well, bye Gareth.”

“Bye,” he waves.

Just as you step off the curb to make your way through the parking lot, a blue sedan pulls in beside you carefully. The window rolls down, and Gareth’s mom shouts to you.

“You look so pretty tonight!”

You turn on your heel, “thank you, Miss Jones.”

Gareth’s worst nightmare has come true. His mom’s best trait has become his worst enemy. She does well at her job where her spunk and toothy grin do her well amongst her coworkers. Even people she sees on the street, she’ll make new friends in mere moments. While he adores her theatrics, he does wish she could know when to pipe down.

“Did you kids have fun tonight?” She whips her head back and forth between her son slotting into the front seat of her car, and you dancing on your heels and toes in the parking lot. “Oh! You should come by tomorrow. We’re making ziti! Ever heard of it? I was watching the television. I love my cooking television shows. I learn so much. Anyway, this lady says something about her Italian dog - or maybe it was her grandma - no, it had to be her grandma. Dogs can’t cook,” she only pauses to belt out a loud and nasally sort of laugh. “Can you imagine? The hysteria!”

If anything, Gareth was trying to spare you the ongoing rambles that his mother could go through. The woman didn’t have an off button. When he told her that he could use a ride to the bowling alley, she was extremely ecstatic to be having a mother and son night out. He disclosed that he would be meeting a friend there, and she responded with a suggestive ‘oh!’ The questions began. She asks if you’re a girl, then asks if he knows what condoms are. Hell, by the end of the conversation you and he were already married and making her grandchildren.

The woman is colorful to say the least.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie!” Gareth didn’t listen in very closely, but by the sounds of it, you’re coming over tomorrow.

Gareth couldn’t be more thrilled that his mom hasn’t scared you off.

You wave one more time, before taking off towards your car that’s parked just a few spots away from the front of the bowling alley.

“I’ll have to find those photo albums,” she mutters to herself.

“Mom,” Gareth whines, “no!”

“What? I can’t show your girlfriend how cute you were as a baby? This is going to be so much fun!” She taps the steering wheel in front of her, then coos. “My baby has a girlfriend!”

“We’ve been on one date!”

“She’s going to look gorgeous in white one day, don’t you think? Is she more of an ivory or a cream? I’m just so excited!”

-> <-

[Sep 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo

[hjvi]

Heaven

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve never handled your liquor well, good thing you have Chris there to deal with your drunken stupors.

⚠︎ Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Tipsy sex (consensual!), fingering, slight degradation and rough themes.

Word Count: 2.6k

It was supposed to be a small get-together. That’s what your friends had assured you when you’d all walked the near-mile trek to a random guy's house. Surprise, surprise - it was not small. Cars lined the street outside the multi-level estate, music loud enough to be heard the street over. Your friends didn’t seem to sense your apprehension, either that or they simply didn’t care, all of them giggling and pulling you in after them.

You’d partied, sure, but this was way out of your realm of comfort. People you didn’t recognize flooded the house, the air thick with the scent of marijuana and an absurd combination of cologne and perfume. Usually, whenever you partied you’d be with one of the triplets, always with Chris by your side at the minimum - but tonight it was just you and your friends.

“C’mon!” Shouted one of your friends, her hand firm on your wrist as she tugged you toward the kitchen where a man you didn’t recognize poured a clear liquor into a plethora of solo cups. Your friends scrambled for cups, one of them handing you one, all of you clanking the plastic together before tossing it back.

Vodka, that was vodka. You could feel the burn encompass your throat as you choked down nearly four mouthfuls, your stomach wordlessly cursing you to hell and back for even attempting to drink on an empty stomach. You’d never been known for smart decisions when it came to alcohol, it was something that bonded you with the guys and irritated Chris to no end whenever he’d have to hold your hair back after hours.

“Fuck-“ You coughed out through a laugh, slamming the now empty plastic cup down on the counter, the motion soon followed by your friends. It would be the first of many drinks if any of you had a say, but in all honesty, you didn’t feel comfortable getting flat-out drunk without Chris by your side. You trusted your friends more than words could express, but Chris was like your own guard dog, it’d have been stupid for you to test fate on the one night he wasn’t by your side.

Your closest friend of the group, Amara, looped her arm around yours, pulling you toward the center of the living room where everyone seemed to be dancing to the music that blared overhead - or attempting to, anyhow. You both danced together, laughing loudly at those around you who were too inebriated to walk away from the massive crowd. It wasn’t long until you felt the liquor you’d chugged earlier working its way through your system, glossing your vision over and slurring your words together.

Time went muddy as you danced, the liquor doing its job ensuring your inability to formulate coherent thoughts or hold a conversation that didn’t end in bounds of laughter. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was your tipsy mind realizing you didn’t have Christopher by your side, and you didn’t like that in the slightest.

It was nearly three in the morning when Amara pulled you out onto the front porch of the house, striking up a match to light the cigarette she claimed she desperately needed after dancing for hours. You moved to sit on the front steps, sighing loudly as you looked out to the lawn, mind convinced if you thought of him hard enough he’d appear.

“I miss Chris.” You whined, looking back to Amara who only laughed, taking a lengthy drag off her cigarette before moving to sit beside you, arm wrapping tight around your middle as she rested her head against yours.

“I’ll take you to his in a bit, just let me finish my cigarette.” She replied, flicking off built-up ash from the end of her cigarette. “I’m going to tell him that you haven’t stopped talking about him for two hours, by the way. You’re lucky you’re my best friend, I’d have put tape over your mouth earlier if you weren’t.”

You leaned against her side, silently thankful that you hadn’t done more shots alongside your other friends and had instead chosen to dance with Amara until your feet were sore. The scent of her perfume calmed you, the same one she’d worn for years, it reminded you of your early teenage years and how the two of you would get into countless amounts of trouble together.

“Ready?” You asked after a few minutes, having passed the time by peeling chipped paint from a nearby banister. Your question brought another scoffed-out laugh from Amara, who simply motioned to her half-smoked cigarette, but as soon as she saw you pout she rolled her eyes and moved to her feet. You moved beside her, a giddy smile on your face that made her irritated facade crack, knowing she couldn’t stay frustrated with you for too long.

“He lives-“ You started, quickly being interrupted by Amara as she covered your mouth with her free hand. “I know where he lives, dammit.”

You chuckled into her hand, pushing it away as you two continued down the sidewalk and toward The triplets house. With each step, the sound of the party grew fainter, until all that surrounded you was the sound of nearby crickets and the train yard. You’d taken up kicking a rock, whenever it’d steer too close to the road Amara would kick it back.

The walk had helped you to sober up, the cold air causing goosebumps to cover every inch of exposed skin. You’d’ve given up on the trek twenty minutes ago if you weren’t so determined to see Chris, your fingers fumbling with his necklace that hung snugly around your neck, occasionally placing the cold silver against your lips.

The triplets place was packed, as it usually was on a Saturday night due to the unfathomable amount of parties they'd throw. Amara begrudgingly helped you through the hoard of cars, cursing under her breath whenever you’d tumble over your own two feet and inevitably slam into the side of some beat-up pickup truck. As soon as you two entered the House Matt looked over to you, laughing to himself before motioning toward the back staircase.

Amara’s arm looped around your middle, all but holding you up as you made your way upstairs. On the walk there you thought you’d sobered up completely, but the stairs slapped that confidence right out of your mind. If you hadn’t had her holding you up you probably would’ve passed out on a couch downstairs, but she helped you to the best of her abilities.

You could tell Chris wasn’t awake, the lights were off and the door was shut tight. Whatever peace he’d had while sleeping was abruptly snatched from him when Amara kicked the door open, causing the man to nearly jump out of his skin as he looked to the door.

“Delivery.” Amara stated, nodding her head to you as you smiled over at Chris, waving like a child who’d seen a cute cat on the street.

“Hi, Chris.”

Chris looked to Amara, aggravation written clear across his face as he moved up from his bed, walking over to you two before scooping you up.

“Couldn’t have knocked?” He asked over his shoulder, earning him a snorted-out laugh from Amara who’d already begun making her departure. “You wouldn’t have answered.”

He couldn’t argue with that, instead giving Amara a goodbye under his breath as he helped you into his bed. You were being incredibly touchy during the whole ordeal, hands moving to cup his jaw, to splay against his chest, before somehow weaving them underneath his shirt and against his abdomen.

“Quit.” He grumbled, pushing the bedsheets down as he began taking off your shoes. But, as always, you didn’t listen. You kicked your shoes off, narrowly missing his knee in the process, causing him to glare up at you. Although he couldn’t stay mad at you, not with you flopping back onto his bed and lifting your hips to shrug off your jeans, kicking the fabric to the floor along with your underwear.

“Doll-“ He started, averting his gaze to the nearby window as you peeled your shirt off. He took in a shuddering breath, hands fumbling with the fabric of his boxers as you moved over to him, staring up at him through your eyelashes like a siren amidst a bay of water.

“What?” You cooed, one hand smoothing down between his thighs as the other held you upright on the bed, a coy smirk upon your lips. “Missed you all night.”

He cleared his throat, eyes fluttering as your hand made contact with his cock. Even while tipsy, you still knew how to touch him. You brushed your fingers along his shaft, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his reply.

“You’re drunk.” He responded, gently pushing your hand away as he looked over at you, moving forward only to press a kiss to your forehead. He moved from the bed, grabbing your legs to push them underneath the covers, moving to lay beside you after.

You pouted, clearly not happy about not getting your way, so you turned over to face him. He immediately sensed your rebellious attitude, his brows furrowing together as he looked down at you, wordlessly scolding you.

It didn’t work.

Your hand wove down his front, resting over his hardening cock as you kissed along his throat, humming against his skin. Sure, you were tipsy, but you knew what you were doing and you damn sure knew what you wanted. Chris groaned, head falling back against his pillow as his hips pressed up to meet your touch, cock twitching against your palm.

“Want you-“ You murmured against his skin, nipping against his pulse point, causing him to whine as his hips twitched. You smiled to yourself, slinking your hand into his boxers, gently curling your hand around his cock. You could feel his precum dripping down his shaft, coating your fingers as you slowly pumped him.

Any resolve he’d had faded the moment your thumb swiped across his tip. With a quiet groan of your name, he moved over you, lips finding yours in a heated kiss as his free hand moved between your thighs, fingers finding home against your soaked cunt. You kissed him back, savoring the faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he sunk his middle and ring finger into you, plunging the digits in and out as he sucked at your bottom lip.

“Chri-“ You whined, brows screwing together as your cunt squeezed around his fingers, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as his eyes focused on yours. “Need you inside of me.”

He swore under his breath, almost toppling over you to push himself upright as he all but tore his shirt off. You spread your legs before him as he pushed his boxers down, kicking the fabric to the floor before positioning himself between your legs.

His hands smoothed up the underside of your thighs, coming to rest against the back of your knees as he shifted himself closer to you. You looked up at him, clenching around nothing as he pressed your knees to your chest, his free hand moving to grab his cock. The position was exposing, leaving you spread and on display for him, something he couldn’t help but admire with a satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re dripping.” He murmured, moving his hand from himself to trail his index finger between your slick folds, causing your hips to twitch. You watched with bated breath as he brought his finger to his lips, gaze meeting yours as he sucked the digit clean. A groan reverberated in his chest as your saccharine taste coated his tongue, leaving him craving you in a manner so carnal it felt like a sin.

“I’d make you cum on my tongue-“ He drawled out, words sighed halfway as his hand grasped the base of his cock, slapping his tip against your clit. “But you were so needy. So desperate.”

Your lips parted in protest, the words cut off by a sharp moan as he slipped his tip between your folds, pushing into your soaked cunt with a harsh thrust of his hips. You felt as though you were being split apart, his girth dragging along your walls in a way that left you grasping at his forearms for mercy he wouldn’t grant.

“Wanted this-“ He grunted, eyes focused on your flushed face as he fucked you, only adjusting himself a fraction to circle your clit with his thumb. His cock pounded into you, the lewd, slick sound of your cum coating him with each thrust echoing throughout the room. “So fuckin’ tight.”

You could only manage a strangled-off moan in reply, cunt squeezing around his cock with his relentless pace. Every movement forced air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and dizzy, mind reeling from his thumb expertly circling your clit as you tried to focus on the way Chris stared down at you, grunting out words of praise intermingled with degradation.

“Drunk on my cock?” He asked through a laugh, loving how fucked-out you looked. Your appearance was flushed, hair plastered to your forehead, lips parted as drawn-out moans fell from your lips. He nodded, answering for you with a hissed out, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

“I-“ You whined, nodding as you babbled. “I am.”

Each word was interrupted by a short gasp, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs as he pressed himself down onto you, practically folding you in half. The closer he got, the deeper he felt. You could only whimper, feeling your cum dripping down your inner thighs and onto your ass, surely wetting the sheets beneath you.

You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach, your eyes conveying the feeling in a way words never could. He watched you, his thumb continuing to circle your clit as he fucked you. Every roll of his hips brought you closer and left your thighs tightening as his tip brushed against your cervix. You gave yourself over to the feeling with a broken cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt spasmed around his cock.

“Good-“ He grunted, hardly able to finish his sentence as he fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your cunt twitching around his cock, coaxing him deeper inside of you. His hand moved to your waist, grasp so tight it’d surely left bruises in its wake. You watched on in oversensitivity-fueled abandon as he chased his release. “So fuckin’ good.”

His chest heaved as he pulled out of you, short groans leaving him in droves as he fucked his fist, cum spilling over his knuckles and onto your lower stomach. From his furrowed-together brows to the way his cock twitched in his hands, you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at the sight.

“Fuck-“ He panted out, bending over the edge of the bed to grab his discarded shirt, wiping his hand clean before shifting to wipe your lower stomach. “You alright?”

You nodded in response as he moved to lay beside you, arm encircling your waist. You’d both need a shower in the morning, and a fresh change of clothes, but you’d deal with that later.

“Stop goin’ to parties without me, doll.” He murmured against the shell of your ear, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Or at least tell me when you’re goin’, pain in the ass.”

His words pulled a laugh from you, his protective nature shining through even in the afterglow of sex. Knowing he was being genuine, despite his crude nature, you replied with a quiet, “Alright, Chris.”

“Thank you.” He huffed. “Now go to bed, drunkard.”

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic—it means the world to me! With my three-month break from real estate school, I’ve had more time to focus on writing, and it’s been such a rewarding experience. Hopefully, I’ll be able to share more drafts with you soon! I truly hope you enjoyed this story, and I’d love to hear your thoughts or suggestions for future fics. Your support keeps me motivated, and I’m so excited to keep sharing more stories with you. Thanks again for being here—it really means a lot!

taglist: @swagalicious260@watercolorskyy@coquettechris@lovesturni0l0s@christmastreecake@ellbowmacaroni@blog-luvdance@sophand4n4@meg4-matt44

[hardtofindeggs]

Cease and Desist Pt.2

❀ pairing: professor!levi ackerman x chancellor!f!reader

❀ genre: enemies(ish) to lovers, slow burn

❀ cw: light swearing, high tension situations (???), alcohol consumption, slight angst, fluff, jealousy, mutual pining (but levi is hopeless)

❀ summary: levi ackerman has been a professor at acadia hills university™ for almost 6 years now. levi ackerman has also had his eyes on you - the chancellor of this university - for 6 years now. he hasn't allowed himself to get too close to you, despite it being hard since your social circles are nearly identical. what'll happen now that he can't avoid you as much as he'd like? now that he's too close to you?

❀ parts: pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4 -> pt.5

Entering your house, you place your keys on the little ceramic bowl you have placed on top of your shoe shelf. Locking your door twice, you start to walk towards your kitchen, excited to prepare the dinner you had set ingredients out for earlier when suddenly your mobile phone rings. Taking it out of your pocket with a confused look on your face because who even calls people at 11:07 pm? When suddenly your confused expression melts off because of course she does.

"Hey there, Hange," a smile lingering in your voice.

"My savior. My angel. My light. My very own personal je-"

"Which bar are you at again, Hange?" you cut her off to ask between low chuckles.

"Hmmm...let me think," a short silence engulfs the line before your best friend speaks once more "21....uh..21...M-mobli-"

"Bounce Street?" you ask while your phone is stuck between your shoulder and ear as you put on your shoes.

"THAT'S THE ONE!!!"

Hange's sudden scream makes you pull the phone away before speaking one last time "Be there in 15. Do NOT leave," she mumbles something of an incoherent agreement and you hang up; grabbing your keys, locking your door and entering your car as you see yourself on your way to the bar.

Once you arrive at the bar, your field of vision is flooded with freshly turned 21 year olds who can't seem to drink quick enough, large groups of older men flirting with the usual bartender and of course, your best friend singing karaoke to anyone who would listen. You stand watching her for a while before you decide on getting yourself a quick drink as she finishes her song. You walk up to the bar and order yourself an apple juice.

"Designated driver?" a low voice asks from beside you. You can't hear the person very well over Hange's singing so you turn to face them. A polite laugh leaving your mouth as you answer.

"More like- Levi! Excuse me; Professor Ackerman," you're surprised to see your friend at the bar he practically ridiculed you for considering to go to.

"Too late for that. Anyhow, you actually didn't answer my question this time, Chancellor," he says smugly.

You roll your eyes and smirk at his petty comment and answer "Such amazing memory. To answer your question, technically yes. See, I wasn't here at all tonight so you can't really call it 'designated' but I was called to come get Hange anyway. So... I suppose so,"

Levi nods and finishes the last of his water, "Taking her back to yours, then?" you nod your head and he speaks once again, however you can't seem to put together what he said.

"What?!" you raise your voice over the music. Levi rolls his eyes and moves closer to you, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and holding it there as he moves in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his warm breath fanning over it for a short second.

"I asked if I could also drop Miche off at your place. I don't really feel like having to clean his throw up tonight." he separates from you, taking note of how close you two actually were, and asks for another glass of water.

You tell him it's no problem and he nods as a silence engulfs the room, even though Hange can still be heard by everyone in this bar. To you it's deafening. Paying attention to the drinks in front of you and nothing else. You hope he doesn't notice how red your ears are, or how you held your breath when he got so close to you. You hope he doesn't notice you touching your ears in a feeble attempt to cool them down, or how your arm relaxed against his when he got so close to you. You really hope he didn't notice.

"Hange, sit up. Cuz if you throw up while laying down, you'll die," you signal right and turn, "And if you do, I wouldn't be able to fit funeral arrangements into my calendar right now," you listen to Hange's giggling while you enter your building's parking lot, finding two empty slots besides one another and parking your car neatly.

You exit your car and open the door for Hange, lowering yourself so you can help wiggle her out.

"Y/N!" Levi's voice echoes throughout the partially empty parking lot, grabbing your attention away from Hange's boots in your hands.

"Yes, Levi?"

"Mind throwing me your keys? I'll get Miche changed and on the couch while you get Hange out," Levi shrugs his head towards the sleepy man slouched over his shoulder.

You nod and let go of Hange's leg to throw him your house keys. Levi catches them with his free hand and begins walking towards the elevator. Once he's out of your sight, you continue struggling with Hange once more, until finally, 20 minutes and some negotiation later, her head's nuzzled up against your neck, legs around your waist as you step into the elevator. 9th floor.

Stepping out of the elevator to find the door to your apartment creaked open, you step inside and push the door shut behind you with your foot before walking up the stairs and to your room to get Hange changed and settled into your bed. After 15 minutes of shimmying her sleeping form into some pyjamas, you walk downstairs to look for Levi.

You check the balcony first and the living room next; that's where you find a snoring Miche in some grey sweatpants and a cotton black tank top, knocked out on your L shaped couch. Sound asleep. Smiling to yourself you walk out and begin walking to the kitchen, growing more and more certain of Levi's whereabouts as you continue to hear clattering and sizzling coming from there.

To your surprise, you stand leaning on the kitchen's doorframe, drinking in the vision that is your jet black haired friend. His sleeves rolled up as he expertly works between the salmon in one frying pan, vegetables in another and some sauce in a pot.

"Must be my birthday," you smirk and push yourself off of the doorframe as you make your way to your wooden kitchen island and seat yourself.

"You amuse me," Levi mumbles monotonously "I saw the ingredients set out after I'd put Miche to bed. Came in to fix myself a cup of tea and thought to have this be my way of thanking you for taking them both in,"

"There's no need to thank me, Levi,"

"I want to," His eyes flit up to meet yours for a short moment before he starts plating up your dinner.

A moment of silence consumes you both when you speak up, "I hope you're not intending for me to eat alone,"

Levi stares at you as he slides you your plate of food and a glass of water. Two ice cubes. He balls his hands into fists and pushes his knuckles into the wooden island; swaying himself back and forth, thinking of whether he should stay or go.

He takes a deep breath and speaks, "I'll eat with you, Y/N," you smile at him and raise your hands up in a victory pose. Levi chuckles softly at your playfulness before making himself a plate and sits down in front of you as you both silently enjoy your dinners.

You finish the last of the washing up and you walk out of the kitchen, once again looking for Levi. Nearing your living room you see him at the entrance of your home, putting on his shoes- you walk down the hallway to him.

"Why didn't you tell me you're leaving? I'll drop you off,"

"No need. It's what Uber is for, no?" cocking an eyebrow at you as he pulls his phone out to order a car.

"What? Levi- wha- no. Why would you do that? Just stay. I'll drop you home tomorrow with Hange and Miche. Save the planet and all," you attempt at bargaining with him. But why? Let him leave. You shouldn't get too close with him, anyway- he'll know otherwise.

Levi scoffs before answering, "And share a car with those morons? Y/N, be serious.. and besides; I can order an electric car. Save the planet," he finishes his point and orders a car.

You exhale deeply through your nose to which he looks up at you for.

"What,"

"You're forever arrogant, aren't you,"

Levi looks to the side, "I don't want to be anymore trouble,"

"That's nonsense, Levi," you move to look him in his eyes. It's quiet for a moment, both of you displaying your best poker faces waiting for the other to speak. Neither one of you does. His phone pings with a notification that his Uber has arrived.

"Great. Now I have to make him wait while I go down your shitty apartment's elevator. This is going to hurt my rating," he mumbles in annoyance as he walks out of your house and frantically presses the elevator button multiple times, as though that will make it arrive quicker.

You follow after and wait next to him. Once the elevator arrives and he steps inside, you manage to yell out to him just as the elevator doors close, "Let me know once you're home!"

The doors are long shut before he's able to respond and you go back inside your house. Your phone vibrates as you lock your door and you open it to see a text message.

Levi: 👍

Shaking your head, you lock your phone and make your way to your room to get changed before you sleep in the guest room for the night.

[n0vabug]

All her fault

Maddy Perez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You went to surprise Maddy but ended up finding out she was cheating.

Warnings: Angst angst angst! Death, crying, cheating, swearing, not proofread.

Nothing special was happening today, you just wanted to hangout with your girlfriend like any normal couple would do. She had also been acting a bit strange lately, strange in the sense that she was being distant and then super clingy when she comes back from hangouts with her friends. She was normally a clingy person but she said she was hanging out with Cassie or Kat, but when she came back she was clingy times a thousand, not normal Maddy clingy. It was like she was on and off with you and you didn't understand why. Maybe you could get some answers today though.

You arrived at her doorstep with a gift bag in your hand, it was filled with her favorite snacks and some other small gifts that you knew she would love. You pressed your fingertip against the doorbell and waited for a moment, but no one came to the door. Her car was there though so you knew she was home, there was another car too that you assumed was her parents. You were never at her house while her parents were there, so maybe this was your chance to meet them finally.

You pressed the button again and waited, but once again, no one answered the door. Maybe she was in her room and couldn't hear? You didn't overthink anything or worry too much because you trusted Maddy more than anything. You walked to the side of her house to look through her window. Not in a creepy stalker way! Just to see that she was home.

Nothing could've prepared you for what you had seen through that window. Your girlfriend making out with Nate fucking Jacobs. God fucking damnit. In this moment, it felt like the world came crashing down on you, your heart truly shattered. All the trust you had for this girl. All the energy you put in. All the love you had shown. Was it all for nothing? It was so hard to process. So many emotions and feelings ran through you at once and you didn't even know what to do.

You were staring at the window, mouth slightly agape as tears burned your eyes. You quickly moved away from the window and went back to your car, but the tears, the feelings, and all the emotions, didn't fade. You contemplated for a moment on what to do which led you to deciding that it was best to go to Kat. Kat has been your best friend since middle school and you guys were inseparable.

Your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel as you reversed out of her driveway. When you finally got on the main road, all the emotions started to flood again and those broken sobs you had been holding back, escaped from your lips. You decided it was best to call Kat to let her know you were going to her house. You grabbed your phone and clicked on her contact, it only rang for about 2 seconds before a voice could be heard on the other end.

"Hey y/n, what's up?"You tried to form a sentence but only a sob could be heard."Y/n? Is everything okay? What's wrong?" Kat spoke in a concerned tone. Obviously very worried about her best friend.

"She's been cheating on me, Kat... with Nate..." Your voice sounded so broken and it pained her to hear you like this.

"Are you serious? Oh my god... I'm so sorry. Um... come over to my house so we can talk about what to do and we can have a little movie day to make you feel better. That sound okay?"

Honestly, anything was better than thinking about Maddy and even though you would still feel heavy from all the negative emotions, being around Kat and watching movies would be way better. You were already on you way to her house because no matter what, she would drop everything and put you first. You were almost at her house, literally on the street that she lives on and she knew because of how you guys shared locations.

"Yeah, I'm almost there anywa-"

All that could be heard from Kat's phone was a loud crash sound. You had been too distracted by everything and you were also crying, you didn't notice the driver that t-boned into the side of your car. There was glass flying everywhere and unfortunately for you, the car ran into the side you were sitting on. Your ears rang and everything went black. This wasn't the type of unconsciousness where you knew you were about to wake up. You knew you wouldn’t recover from this, the impact was too hard and you felt everything slip away.

"Y/n? Are you okay? What just happened?" She knew that something was wrong when you didn't respond so her panic only grew further. She called your name out multiple times until the line disconnected. She ran out of her house and say the collision in the distance. The faint sound of sirens grew closer as the ambulances quickly arrived. Kat ran to your car, but before she could do anything, the paramedics had to push her back to they could get to you. They brought your lifeless body into the ambulance and did everything they could.

Kat was in tears at this point, she rode in the ambulance with you and the multiple paramedics. The whole ride was a blur for her because of how worried she was. She ended up calling Maddy, who picked up surprisingly fast.

"Hey Kat!" She said enthusiastically, extending the "A" in her name as she spoke. She was clearly in a good mood.

"Why the fuck would you cheat on her?!" Kat's emotions were getting the best of her right now, she was yelling at Maddy who was confused, but Kat spoke up again before Maddy could get another word in. "This is all your fucking fault!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Kat? Don't get all bitchy with me..." She spoke with her usual attitude.

"She found out you were cheating with Nate and she was upset and was driving to my house, she got in a fucking accident and now she's going to the hospital!" She was upset and angry, she hung up before Maddy could get a word in. Maddy tried calling and texting Kat multiple times, but she eventually gave up and drove to the hospital. It took her about 20 minutes, but when she arrived she saw Kat in the waiting room.

Maddy had tears in her eyes as she walked over to Kat. "Where is she?" Kat pointed to the hallway at one of the rooms. "No one is allowed in, Maddy..." Maddy silently cursed herself for this, she still did care for y/n.

"I don't understand why you would do that to her, she loved you and cared so much about you. She trusted you more than everything and you took advantage of that..." Kat's voice was quiet this time, she was terrified for what may happen next and so disappointed in Maddy. Maddy had nothing to say in return, there was nothing to say. The silence spoke enough for her. The regret and guilt she felt was truly overwhelming and she wished she could take it all back. They both sat in silence for a bit, until a doctor approached them.

"I'm so sorry..." He said apologetically and sadly. "We did everything we could but the impact was too bad..." Maddy gasped quietly, she stared at the floor letting everything process until a sob broke the silence. She looked over at Kat who had tears streaming down her face.

Someone they both cared for deeply, gone. Gone because of that horrible fucking situation. Gone because of Maddy. It was all her fault...

A/N: i literally can't fall asleep anymore so im exhausted also the ending is so bad oml i didnt know how to finish it 😭 this was requested so long ago too so im sorry for taking so long, i promise i will try to get better at writing quicker 🙏

[liciapeonia]

Rainy night

jinx and fem!reader

Today was different there were no people talking loudly outside your window even though it's 1am it's normal that this part of the city never stops the point is that tonight it was raining a lot, the sewage is not exactly effective and the flow of water was huge there were floods there was no one on the streets, you could hear the noise of the thunder there was a strong wind and from your bedroom window you could see the rays hitting the buildings

You're renovating arms, some say your boss gets them illegally to sell but it's just rumors, you and jinx met when your boss took you and your co-workers to a ''fancy'' bar in Zaun, your friends were already drunk, you got away from them and started talking to the bartender, that's when you and she met after that day, she would go to your boss's store to ask for parts for your guns or just to stay there talking to you while you had a job to finish. Maybe it's something more than friendship, you and she have been in bed a few times, and you stay up for hours talking, you don't know exactly what it is about her, but you know that she feels the same way about you, your relationship, even if it's not publicly confirmed, people already know not to mess with the jinx girl, her love language is touch, always with one hand on you and when someone interrupts a conversation between you, all she has to do is look at the person's face with her angry eyes… you never notice.

It was a very bad night, even if there were no people shouting outside, the rays and thunder wouldn't let you sleep. Lying down and staring at the ceiling, you begin to ramble on about how she looks and how you wish she were with you. then you hear a noise on the other side of your door so you get up from your bed wearing only a pair of panties and a baggy blouse and take a knife, going to the door you open it a little to see who it is then you see Jinx wet because of the rain, smiling at you, dropping the knife on the table and opening the door more, you look at her with surprise.

"Hey what are you doing here it's crazy out there

''I just came to visit but if you want I can go'' she says walking in and looking at what you're wearing with an even bigger smile

''No it's okay I wasn't getting any sleep anyway'' you say excitedly closing the door behind her ''I'll get some clothes for you if you're hungry take what you want'' you say going to the bedroom to get a big blouse for her too and she goes after you hypnotized by your figure.

"Silco, you're driving me crazy, he won't let me do anything," she says, going into your room and starting to take off her shoes and clothes.

You help her and hand her the blouse while you take the wet clothes and put them in a corner ''he must just be worried'' you say as you lie down on the bed.

"No, he's just annoying," she says, going over to the bed and lying down with you, clinging to you with one hand on your hip and her face on your neck. "At least there's the doctor to listen to his stories, the other day he took me to that dirty river and my hair got all stinky," she says.

You laugh lightly ''But I was there to help clean it up and besides you didn't tell me the real reason you were here'' you say pressing her body to yours "I just… they wouldn't stop talking, the noise of the rain was awful too I just… couldn't stand to be there with them'' she said vulnerably and in a sad voice.

''It's ok come whenever you want no problem I was here missing you too'' you say now looking at her and kissing her on the lips.

You have a light snogging session then you start chatting about the day and soon fall asleep in each other's arms.

I hope you like it, kiss and chesse.

★,°*:.☆*.°★* ☆* .｡.:*☆

[adventuringblind]

Toxic Reappearance

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Request: no this is pure self indulgence. However, they are open for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Daniel, and I’ve now added George to the list.

Summary: an old friend reappears into your life, one that left you traumatized. Having thought you’d never see them again you didn’t ever say anything. When Charles figures out what’s been going on he may just be to late to save you from your past.

Warnings: toxic friendships, abusive behavior,

Notes: written in second person. I feel like abusive friendships aren’t talked about enough. It still hurts and still leaves you with trauma. I’m basing the reader’s feeling off my own from when I went through it. George is actually my stand-in for someone else involved.

Masterlist

Charles always tried his to appear calm and collected. However, when you started acting different then what he’d used to, calm and reasonable went out the window.

You’d always struggled with friends. Mainly because the one you had was incredibly possessive. She managed to cut you off from a good chunk of the people you once were close with. Using guilt and lies to confuse everyone involved.

You knew her home life wasn’t the greatest and mentally she wasn’t in a good spot, so you tried to be her rock.

It started out great in grade school. The two of you were fast friends and could hardly ever be seen without the other in two. Then it started to become a toxic loop. One you couldn’t get out of due to the guilt every time you tried to set boundaries.

You were so young. You wanted to help. Not that her home life is an excuse for what she did, but it puts it into perspective. Helps you understand why she did what she did.

Playful punches when she was annoyed with you. Blaming not knowing her own strength on why it was so hard. Never being allowed to have your own interests. Always overshadowed by what she was feeling.

You shrunk into yourself. Not able to talk to anyone because you believed her. You thought she left bruises on accident, your boyfriends kissed her first, she really just wanted those revealing pictures of you to bless you with compliments only to turn around and compare your bodies.

In your sophomore year of high school she had to move. Her mom had received a job farther away. You were able to cut contact after that. The weight slowly lifting off your shoulders. The bruises that once littered your skin now clearing without fear of them coming back later.

You’d talked about it, understood that what happened was not okay in the slightest. Your family was floored when you opened up about it to them a couple years later. Then you decided it was in the past, determined ti put everything behind you and move on.

Unfortunately the past has a way of catching up with you.

It was around this time that Charles sped into your life. Quite literally.

You’d been walking through the town. Busy with people in town for the grand-prix weekend. You’d wanted to go but it was more expensive then you could afford. Settling for enjoying it from afar.

You were not at fault for what happened next, having looked both ways before crossing the street. Only to be met with a nice looking car whipping around the corner. It was so fast your only reaction was to protect your head and brace for impact. Surprise flooding your system when nothing happened.

You slowly looked up. Thanking your guardian angel for saving you from what could have been disastrous.

The man in the driver seat frantically got out of the car. Rushing over to you to make sure you were okay. His frantic apoligizing almost went unheard as you began laughing.

You blamed the adrenaline. "I can't believe I almost got hit by a really nice care and now a good looking man is trying to make sure I'm ok."

The man had no words to respond with. Finding himself oddly flattered. The woman he could've killed is completing him? It feels like a corny romance movie.

He offered you a ride to your destination, which you accepted. Joking about how he could be a serial killer.

He assured you he wasn't. Explaining how he was racing this weekend. Killing someone was definitely not on the agenda.

You two exchanged numbers that day. Getting to meet up with him a few times before he left. Then having to resign to text and video call.

You two became good friends. The first truly good friendship you'd had in a while. You were grateful for Charles and his never-ending patience. And he was grateful you were there to listen in good times and in bad.

You were ecstatic when he invited you to a race Monaco. He got to show you around his world and his home. Your eyes lighting up at every little piece of himself he shared with you.

It was then that he asked you out on an official date. Letting the feelings that he'd developed for you spill out.

Obviously you'd reciprocated.

Now, you two have been in a relationship for two years. Learning and growing with each other. First over long distance before Charles had enough and asked you to travel with him.

You were thankful that remote studies had become increasingly popular since quarantine. Giving you the opportunity to follow Charles all around the world.

It was exciting for both of you. Sharing experiences together brought you closer together.

You'd also become friends with others around the paddock. You got along with most everyone. George has become a good friend through your travels.

So it only made sense when he was excited to introduce you to his girlfriend.

You and Charles were walking to the Ferrari garage when he came running up to you.

"Charles! Y/N! I want you to meet someone!" He shouts to you. Joy clearly evident in his voice.

Charles immediately noticed your entire demeanor change when you turned around. The woman he didn't know embracing you in a tight hug. You looked like you wanted to throw up but tried to put a smile on for George.

"You two already know eachother?" Charles asked quizzically.

"We were best friends growing up! I'm surprised she hasn't talked about me." She was referring to you and you knew you should respond but the shock of seeing her wouldn't let you.

She looked different, but you'd still recognize her anywhere. She'd started modeling after high-school. Turns out she met George at a show and they hit it off.

The whole time they talked, you were silent. Trying to choke down the need to tell George to leave her before he gets stuck. But maybe she'd changed and has been able to heal some.

When you and Charles continued walking, he immediately was trying to figure you out. Asking questions you couldn't hear. Your breathing labored.

He got you into his driver's room as fast as possible. "You don't have to tell me everything right now, mon amour. But I do need to know if this is a security issue and if you're okay."

You shake your head and play with his fingers. "I don't think so. She just wasn't the greatest friend." You confessed, hoping it would be enough for now.

Charles pulls you into him. He's unsure what to do, having never been in this situation. Seeing you respond to someone like this makes him more nervous than he wants to admit.

Through the next few months, you opened up little by little. Though with the girl constantly with you, it was starting to send you backwards.

It felt like your body just reacted to her. Your conversations with anyone were distant. You started flinching away from sudden hand gestures.

Charles tried his best to keep you separated from her. It never worked, though. She always found you, and you are too nice to tell her to go away.

It's was even more concerning when he noticed George exhibiting similar behaviors.

The group had gone out to the bar to celebrate the end of the race weekend. George seemed closed off to everyone. Responding almost exclusively to his girlfriend. Her hand on his bicep made him flinch away.

You also were very quiet. She was sitting in between you and George, giving the benefit of control.

Charles was ready to kick her out. You'd finished telling a story only to immediately be shut down and made to feel inferior.

When the two of you arrived back at the hotel, you broke. Falling into Charles and letting the tears flow freely.

"I can't do it anymore." You wailed. Taking comfort in Charles embrace and his hand smoothing your hair.

"We'll figure this out mon amour. I won't let her hurt you."

Things only got worse from there.

She'd managed to get into your phone while you weren't paying attention. You curse yourself for using the same pincode since high school.

When you went to check it, you noticed things were missing and out of place.

You stared at her, pondering if you should say something. And letting the anger win, you did so.

"Did you go through my phone?" You kept your voice as if you were just curious. Hopefully, to deter her from getting angry.

It didn't happen that way. She was furious you'd evernask such a thing. Ranting about how she's been so loyal to you even after you started ignoring her when she moved.

She'd gripped your shoulder far too aggressively. Telling you she only wants to see you happy.

The missing contacts on your phone were frustrating. Even Charles' number was missing. All your pictures with friends had been deleted. Including those on your socials.

You curled farther into yourself after that.

Charles struggled to help you open up. Having to treat you like glass that might shatter.

You'd started wearing sleeves regularly. Barley letting him touch you in the simplest of ways. Changing in the bathroom when you once didn't care because he'd seen it all.

It hurt him seeing you like this, and he became determined to fix it once and for all.

On the other side, George had been exhibiting similar behaviors. It felt that nobody could get in contact with him. His girlfriend practically held his phone hostage.

The shirtless pics had suddenly stopped, and he'd started wearing sleeves daily. It made everyone concerned for his well-being.

His teammate needed answers. So Lewis made his way to find them.

Two men on a mission, practically the same one, run into each other.

"Lewis! How are things?" Charles tried to put a smile on his face.

"Could be better at the moment, I'm actually really concerned about George." Lewis' honesty never failed to throw Charles off.

"I'm worried about him as well. Y/N has also been worrying lately."

"Maybe we should talk somewhere more private."

The two ended up back in Charles' driver room. Knowing that the female in question would most likely be around the Mercedes garage.

"Maybe we should talk to George and explain our concerns?" Suggested Lewis. His boy sprawled out across the floor.

Charles shakes his head in response. "I've done that already with my girlfriend." He sighs in pained defeat. "She doesn't want to be around her, but for some reason, it always ends up happening. She barely lets me hug her now."

"I think George is too nice to tell her to get lost." Confesses the Brit. "I don't know what we can do then. Unless it becomes a security thing." He shrugs.

"Have we ever actually caught her being aggresive?"

It dawned on them both that they'd never caught her in the act.

And so the two males formed a plan.

It took three mire race weekends to catch her. She had you gripped by the shoulders and backed into the wall. Oddly enough it was George who had arrived on scene first. His race suit tied around his waist.

He’d made an attempt to reason with the irrationality angry woman in front of him. The situation only becoming more escalated.

It wasn’t long that the staff and drivers around the area were alerted by the commotion. Charles and Lewis caught each others eyes before the two were jogging to the center of the scene.

Charles stepped defensively in front of you. Lewis managing to putt George farther away. Now that three drivers are involved, it didn’t take long for security to step in.

“I think we need to talk about what happened.” Sighs Charles. Grateful that she’s gone but feeling that this won’t be the end of situation.

You find yourselves back in yours and Charles hotel room. Accompanied by Max and Lando who though you were going to the bar as usual. Charles explained why that would probably not be happening tonight, the two deciding they would help the mood by bringing alcohol with them to the room for a mini party of sorts.

George was constantly looking over his shoulder and you checked the room multiple times over to be sure everything is locked.

You immediately sank into Charles the moment you felt safe. George is pacing back and fourth mumbling to himself, attempting to get words out that seemed to be difficult to say.

“Do you think we can help with the anxiety?” Asks Lewis. He found his home on the couch. George pauses for a moment fumbling around with his words.

Lando and Max are completely clueless and find themselves seated at the table. Trying to be supportive but not knowing how.

“She’s crazy.” George finally manages. You shake your head in agreement, to exhausted for words. “I’ve tried breaking up with her multiple times but she keeps coming back.” He slumps against the wall. His body curling in on itself. “She knows where I live, she’s messaged me with multiple phone numbers, she somehow manages to get a key to my hotel rooms, she’s even broken into my car.” He’s crying now, all the boys shooting him and you looks of sympathy.

“She was the same way when we were younger. It seems to have escalated more now.” You drawl, eyes closed from feeling safe in Charles arms. He pulls you closer, his fingers playing with your hair. It was the first time he’d had you those close in months. Determined to embrace every second of the contact.

“No wonder you two look paranoid.” Lando places his head in his hands. Max shot him a look, saying that was probably a poor choice of words.

This time around, though, you knew things were going to be different. You had people around that could help.

After everyone left for the night, George having gone with Lando so he didn't have to stay in his room, Charles didn't let you go.

Things were going to get better for you. Finally getting the help you needed all these years. Almost an element of closure.

When you put on comfy clothes in front of him, he wasn't sure what to do. His eyes couldn't leave your body. It looked like you had been at war.

The tears slide down your cheeks as Charles places gentle kisses on each painful mark.

"My kisses are magic, I assure you."

You smile at him through the tears. Overwhelmed by all the emotions you'd gone through in one day.

"Good thing I have you around to make it better then."

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (ii)

AN: i’m so sorry for the delay on this second chapter, i got really caught up with uni stuff and then some personal projects i’ve been working on. anyways i have about a month off and will do my best to catch up on this story! hope u guys enjoy this one….happy holidays!

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: natalie is lowkey a mastermind. rumored romance with another certain actress…..

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

3 weeks later.

new york is everything you love, put into one city. you thrive in it’s anonymity, ironically.

it’s got the strong sense of culture, the food, the creativity, and the people. like every single person who walks the streets is made to belong there, they all have their purpose for making new york what it is.

that’s what you think as you’re sat outside a coffee shop on 463 w broadway.

you make a note of how one day you’ll commit to living here. you also make note of just how reckless it’d be if you just up and left la then never went back. you hate la, you’ve come to find out. yet there’s so much that keeps you there. you hate it. you don’t belong there. but in some sense of the word, you do.

you sigh with the shake of your head, adjust the cap securely on your head, and tighten the large overcoat you have on. the latte in front of you seeming more interesting now. the still hot liquid distracts you from the intrusive thoughts.

your mind drifts off to natalie. you’re immediately taken back to that night at the party. it’s your first time thinking of that night in weeks. and you realize how you truly haven’t felt the way you did that night, since. you remember the conversations you had, you remember how she went to school at nyu, how she told you she hasn’t left new york since. how she never plans to.

you wonder how she’s doing, if she’s in the city. if she remembers you, or has even thought of you.

it makes you a little sad to think about. your life hasn’t slowed down since the release of the series and sometimes all you wanted was to find some small relief in it all. even with the short-lived moments of connection it feels odd to come back from something like that and move on with your life.

your thought is cut short with a text message from samantha.

greta decided to move the meeting a little earlier. she apologizes for the last minute change. can you be there in the next 30 minutes?

you text a quick reply saying that you’ll be there as soon as you can. with that, you grab your to go cup and find the nearest subway that’ll take you up to 19th street.

you make it there just within the thirty minute mark. a kind man waits for you to arrive at the door and leads you up the elevator to the fourth floor of the walk up.

you’re surprised to see who is seated next to greta when you walk in.

“oh good, you made it! let me introduce you to—” you cut her off.

“—natalie.”

the redhead stands from her seat at the table and reaches over it to shake your hand.

“it’s a pleasure we meet again.” her eyes say something different. not bad necessarily, but something more. you’re not sure what it might be. greta’s eyes light up at the gesture.

“oh you’ve met! well, natalie here is gonna be joining us as head writer right besides me and noah for the next season.”

it’s your turn for your eyes to light up. a sense of relief floods through you. natalie isn’t here just to be here, she was here to be part of something with you.

you turn to her with a genuine smile. though you’ve worked with the people in this room for over a year, natalie is drastically different to them.

natalie was the first person who spoke to you as if you were just you. she didn’t bother you about work and stuff.

she talked to you about things that interested you, that interested her. she talked to you like you were just another individual who happened to be at the same party she was at.

“that’s- that’s actually really good to hear. i’m really excited for how this’ll turn out.”you let out a laugh, one that says you’re still trying to comprehend the news.

“right well, let’s get the meeting started!” greta claps her hands together and sits down.

——

natalie hasn’t stopped staring at you since the meeting started.

she hopes you’re as interested in the meeting as you look, because then at least she’d be sure you haven’t figured out her staring problem.

she only catches your eyes whenever greta or noah turn the attention towards her, then you’re forced to look at her. but she’s always just in time to look away before you can notice the stares.

the truth is, natalie is an absolute maniac. she’s a psychopath. she’s a writer for gods sake!

writers have a tendency to be more in sync with their awareness which is great…but they’re also more able to get in touch with that darker side in their psyche. how else do you think she managed to snag a few award-winning films under her belt?

her creativity reaches into places in her mind most wouldn’t even consider to think of.

point is, natalie is a huge romanticist, and it’s a problem. sometimes.

in her defense, greta came up to her for this job. so in some sense of the word, it was fate. plus, tony had put in a good word, not that she asked him to. obviously.

up until that point, natalie had no clue on how to get to you. her only idea was writing her next screenplay and giving you the lead.

but now, the ball was in her court. she takes the next shot.

the meeting ended and everyone was seeing themselves out. natalie thinks of what to say while she’s packing her things but you beat her to it instead.

“it was really nice to see you again.” she hears you say. she lifts her head up, you’re smiling and your hands are stuffed into your coat pockets. a smile easily reaches her eyes at the sight.

“i’m glad. i’ve already got some plans for where i want to take this next season.” natalie replies with an enthusiastic smile.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise eager to know what she might have to say but you hold yourself back. she wouldn’t spoil that for you, even if you asked.

“i have trust you’ll do it right then, i’ve already grown so protective of this show, especially my character.” it was very true. there were moments where you really had to oversee things going on with the script. thank god greta was as collaborative as she is. you’d always try exploring things with your character and she was always very supportive of where you’d take things. it made the series all the more fulfilling to you, honestly.

natalie confirms that she’ll do anything she thinks is in your best interest for the show and before she even realizes it, you’re making a move she wasn’t expecting.

“i know this is on short notice, but…i saw this really nice bistro on my way here and, i’d love to get to know my head writer more…over brunch?” you ask timidly. the thought to ask her had occurred to you only a few seconds ago. natalie seemed wise, and you liked it and she was here with you now and honestly, you just wanted some good company while being in the city.

“yeah i can do lunch. yeah that’s great actually.” natalie was surprised. to say the least. she hadn’t planned to continue the day with you. she decides this was her chance in. her way of getting to know you better, something she’s been desperate to get back to since she realized it that night in her home.

you lead her out of the building where you’re met with the crisp wind of new york city. car horns and police sirens are heard as you walk through the streets of the flatiron neighborhood. on the way to the restaurant you ask eachother how you’ve been.

you tell her about how you just wrapped up your press tour in europe and had spent a few nights with some friends in london. natalie pays close attention to every word that is hung from your lips. she notices to light blush that covers your cheeks and nose due to the cold and she almost reaches out to pull you in closer.

as you speak, she tries not to notice the obvious man with the camera that makes himself known a few hundred feet away from you. a sense of pride makes washes over her at the fact that there’d be a picture taken of the two of you, together.

you end your story and in return ask her how she’s been. natalie doesn’t miss the genuine interest shown in your eyes as she talks.

even as you reach the restaurant and are seated you never lose your sense.

natalie talks and talks and you listen. you’re so entranced by her stories that you’ve come to find that you deeply admire her for what she does and says. it makes you feel all the more excited for the chance at working with her.

she tells you she’s never not writing. even before greta came along to offer her the role of head writer, she was still writing. natalie tells you about the screenplay she was working on, how she plans to direct it as well.

you beam at her revelation seeming genuinely excited at the fact that she’d be making a movie sometime in the future. you tell her that she better invite you to the premiere.

natalie laughs off your comment. she doesn’t tell you how she got back into her writing after she saw you on her screen for the first time, all those months ago.

or how you’re the muse in her next story.

once your ordered food comes in you sit in a comfortable silence as you eat.

“what do you do on your days off?” natalie asks suddenly. she looks up at you through her lashes, her fork playing with the baked eggs on her plate.

you’re so caught off guard by her question it makes you blush at the way she stares you down. you chew down the food in your mouth and answer.

“uh, i like going home, to see my mom. she doesn’t let me stay for more than i need to though, she says i need to go out and meet new people.” you chuckle. your mom was your biggest supporter but also your biggest critic. although she always enjoys her time with you, she was always telling you to go meet with some of your hometown friends.

it’s why you liked going home so much. she’s great at grounding you when you need to be.

“oh? and have you met any new people?” natalie’s interest is piqued by now. she carefully treads around the question, hoping, wishing for any information that’d give her an in into what she desperately wants to know.

who are you with when you’re not alone? who do you think of when you are?

“i mean, i’ve met some really cool people through mutual friends." you reveal.

“wow, so you haven’t met anyone you fancy?” natalie plays it off coolly. she treads along the sacredness that is your romances. and natalie doesn’t mention the fact that she’s read into your love life recently. the rumors of you and another actress.

the one you were pictured with in london very recently.

“huh? oh, no. i don’t really have anyone like that in my life right now.” you nervously chuckle at her question.

“so you and that actress aren’t a couple? you and jenna ortega?” natalie feeds a forkful of food into her mouth, seeming very nonchalant about what she just asked.

you try not to laugh at natalie’s question. your eyebrows raise in surprise at her very forward question. it’s almost comical, really.

jenna was amongst the close group of friends you stayed with while in london.

she was a flame, someone you’d come to deeply admire over the time spent knowing her. she tells you things that you learn from, you check on eachother, you bring eachother back down to earth.

and she was one of the few people you could actually depend on with your life in this industry.

the silent shock wears off. you’re not sure what to say, except the fact that you feel a little embarrassed at her question. that even natalie of all people had heard about your supposed love life.

something that you tried to keep nurtured as much as possible.

“she’s one of my best friends.” you finally say. more sure than anything. you try not to laugh at the accusation. the idea of it seeming so far away from where you are now.

“i haven’t even dated in such a long time.” you even go as far to say. anything to make it clear you’re nowhere near any level of romance with anyone.

you miss the look of surprise on natalie’s face when you say this. she sets her fork down to sip from the breakfast martini she had ordered. she sets her glass down and takes a look at you, leaning forward only slightly.

“i was so sure someone as pretty as you wouldn’t have stayed single for so long.” then she looks down at her plate with a small smile, contemplating. there’s a beat of silence.

finally, she looks up.

“can’t say i’m disappointed at being proved wrong though.” she finishes.

you laugh at natalie’s comment. it’s all you could do, not really sure at what she could be getting at. you even blush a little.

and natalie misses none of it.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

————————

The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

[koffeesfancy]

8. “Are we happy?” | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Can you build a future when your girlfriend is still looking back?

Rating: Mature (due to language)

Genre: Romance, angst

Word Count: 608

A/N: Tomorrow is the last day of an annoying two-week virtual training I’ve had at work. I’m so surprised that I’ve lasted this long doing daily updates, particularly during such a busy time. Also, I’m really enjoying this mini-series. I never would have thought that I could maintain so much plot with so few words. I definitely tend to overwrite, with many of my fics reaching 5,000+ words a chapter- which may sometimes take weeks to edit. 500-750 words is really beginning to feel like a sweet spot as it makes frequent updates far more feasible.

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul

You sat on the couch, staring at the clock, watching the hours crawl by. It was nearly midnight, and you’d been home since four, waiting. Waiting and wondering where Riri had gone. You kept replaying the scene at the clothing store over and over in your head—walking in and asking about the interview, the embarrassment when your friend told you Riri had left without even meeting the manager. The disappointment, the confusion. The anger.

When you got back home, you tried calling her. Once. Twice. Fifteen times. Each ring felt like a heavier weight pressing on your chest until it became hard to breathe. The phone eventually stopped buzzing in your hand, and now you were just staring at it, waiting for a message, a call, anything to explain why she’d gone ghost.

When the door finally opened, you jumped, relief flooding your body for half a second before the anger kicked back in. Riri stepped inside like nothing was wrong, like she hadn’t just left you hanging for hours. She tossed her jacket on the cost rack and started pulling off her Jordans.

“Where the hell you been?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, trembling at the edges. You were shaking now, tears you’d been holding back starting to burn at your eyes. “I’ve been calling you for hours, Riri! I was worried—”

Riri waved you off, barely glancing at you. “I’m fine. Chill out.”

“No, I’m not finna chill out!” you snapped, standing up. “You missed the interview. My friend put her neck out for you, and you didn’t even show. What were you doing all day?”

Riri sighed, rolling her eyes as she stepped into her slides. “I was making money.”

You froze, your mind scrambling to make sense of it. “What… what you mean you were making money?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You didn’t—Riri, tell me you ain’t—” The words stuck in your throat. Rob somebody. Steal something.

She glanced at you, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. “Calm down, Ma. I ain’t rob nobody. Moved a few ounces, that’s all.”

The relief you felt was immediate but short-lived. This wasn’t better. Not by a long shot. Your stomach dropped as the realization sank in. “You sold weed? That’s what you been doing instead of going to your interview?”

Riri shrugged, grabbing a hoodie from the chair. “I wasn’t about to be getting dropped off by my girl to make $20 an hour, Ma. You know me better than that.”

Your chest tightened. “Riri… I can’t believe you right now. I’ve been breaking my back, doing everything I can to make this work, and you out here hustling like we still in the streets. Is this what you want? To keep living like this?”

She stopped at the door, looking back at you, bored, like she was already over the conversation. “Come outside.”

You followed her, your heart racing, part of you scared of what you might find. She led you down to the curb, where a sleek, black Dodge Charger sat gleaming under the streetlights.

You stared at the car, then back at Riri, your stomach twisting into knots. “Riri, what is this?”

She smirked, tossing you the keys. “That’s what I been doing today.”

You caught the keys, staring at them like they were about to explode in your hand. A sick, hollow feeling settled in your chest. “Are we happy?” you whispered, not sure if you were asking her or yourself. Riri just laughed, walking past you and heading back toward the apartment, leaving you standing there with the keys to a car you never wanted.

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 3

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: We're halfway! Series number 3! I really hope that you guys are enjoying this, lmk if there's anything I can o to make this better!

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,1k

Chapter 3: The Spotlight and Shadows

Y/N’s life had always been quiet. Her days were filled with sketching in cafés, attending art classes, and wandering the streets of Barcelona, searching for inspiration. But ever since that fateful encounter with Pablo Gavi, everything had changed.

At first, it had been small things: an uptick in followers on her social media accounts, strangers DM'ing her with harmless questions like “Are you the girl Gavi pointed to during the game?” or “How do you know him?” She brushed it off, not realizing how quickly the attention would escalate.

Then came the viral photos.

A week after Pablo’s match, a paparazzo snapped pictures of them having coffee together at a small café. The photos spread like wildfire. Suddenly, her name was all over fan forums and sports blogs. The headlines ranged from playful to invasive:

“Gavi’s Mystery Girl: Who is She?” “Pablo Gavi Sparks Dating Rumors with Unknown Artist” “Fans React to Gavi’s New Flame—Is She Good Enough for Him?”

At first, Y/N found it almost amusing. She joked with Pablo about being his “scandal of the month,” and he laughed it off, saying, “They’ll move on soon. Don’t worry.” But the attention didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified.

Y/N’s phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Some messages were sweet and curious, while others were venomous.

“You’re so lucky! Gavi deserves someone special like you!” “Stay away from him, gold digger.” “She’s not even pretty. Gavi could do better.”

She stopped checking her messages after a while, the cruel comments cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Her once-peaceful walks through the city became tense and paranoid as she noticed people staring or whispering.

The final straw came when someone leaked her personal Instagram account. Fans flooded her posts with comments, dissecting every photo, every caption, every part of her life.

“You okay?” Pablo asked one evening as they sat in his car outside her apartment.

She bit her lip, staring at her hands. “Not really. It’s...a lot.”

He reached over, taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I didn’t sign up to have my entire life picked apart by strangers.”

Pablo looked at her, guilt etched into his face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’ll talk to my PR team. Maybe they can do something—put out a statement or—”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “That’ll just make it worse. People will think it’s some kind of confirmation.”

The car fell silent, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N tried to focus on her art, but the joy she once felt while sketching seemed distant. Her professors noticed her distracted demeanor, and her friends urged her to talk about what was going on, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up.

One night, she finally broke down.

Pablo had invited her to a small gathering with some of his teammates, hoping to take her mind off everything. She had hesitated but agreed, thinking it might help. The evening started off well enough—his teammates were friendly, their partners warm and welcoming. But as the night wore on, the casual comments started to sting.

“You’re braver than I’d be,” one of the girlfriends said, laughing lightly. “Dating someone so famous? I’d go crazy with all those eyes on me.”

Another chimed in, “And the fans? They’re relentless. Gavi’s lucky you’re sticking around.”

Y/N forced a smile, but their words clung to her like a heavy weight.

When they left the party, Pablo noticed her quietness immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked as they drove home.

Y/N stared out the window, her voice trembling. “I don’t think I can do this, Pablo.”

“Do what?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“This. Us.” She turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not built for this life. I don’t want to be someone who’s constantly watched and judged just for being with you.”

Pablo pulled the car over, his face stricken. “Y/N, I get it. I do. But don’t let them scare you away from something good. From us.”

“It’s not just them,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “It’s me. I can’t focus on my art anymore. I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone’s watching. This...pressure, it’s suffocating.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly. “I don’t care what anyone says, Y/N. You’re the most important person in my life right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this easier for you. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at him. She wanted to believe him, to trust that they could make this work. But the weight of everything felt overwhelming.

“I need time, Pablo,” she said softly. “I need to figure out who I am in all of this.”

The next few days were quiet. Pablo gave her the space she asked for, though it clearly pained him. Y/N threw herself into her art, hoping to rediscover the passion that once defined her.

One afternoon, as she sketched in a hidden corner of a park, she received a text from Pablo.

Pablo: I miss you. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just know I’m here.

Y/N’s heart ached as she read his words. She missed him, too—the way he made her laugh, the way he believed in her even when she doubted herself. But she still wasn’t sure if she could handle being part of his world.

As the sun set over Barcelona, she stared at her sketch, the lines forming an image of two figures standing together. It was unfinished, much like her relationship with Pablo.

For now, all she could do was hope that time would bring clarity. Whether they’d find their way back to each other was a question she couldn’t yet answer.

[stayandot8]

Warmth

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: SHE LIVES!!!! Hello :) While I'm unsure if I'm fully back, I came across a photo for inspiration and this came to mind and I wrote it down before it escaped me. So I hope you enjoy it. It's not perfect, but it's been the first thing I've written in MONTHS. So we call that progress.

WC: 557

masterlist

The leaves on the trees had just started changing and the smell in the wind proved it. It was so cold in the mornings that you needed some kind of jacket just to step three feet outside your door. But by mid-afternoon, your jacket had long been disposed of on the back of some chair in your office. And by the time you would leave for the day, you were grabbing for the same jacket, cursing the weather under your breath, praying Mother Nature wouldn’t hear you.

Well, someone had forgotten her overcoat when her boyfriend asked her to meet him for dinner at a street cart outside his building. And not only was she cursing the weather, but Mother Nature herself for even thinking up the idea of starkly different temperatures in a single day. 

I could hear the vendor yelling at a kid for dropping merchandise on the ground, something about the little one paying for messing with her cart. I quickly shuffled off my bench to the little boy’s aide. 

“I’m sorry madam, but he didn’t mean any harm. How much does he owe you?” I said as I started pulling out my wallet. The young boy had scampered off somewhere. The woman scoffed at me and waved me off, back to her paying customers and leaving me to stand there, staring at the place where the woman had just been. 

“Best put that wallet away or someone will steal it.” A familiar voice from behind me jarred me from my stupor. 

“I swear, that’s the last time I offer to help a youngin.” Chan’s eyes crinkled while he laughed and took my hand. 

“Agh! Your hands are so cold, jagi! Where’s your coat? It’s freezing out here.” He enveloped my hands in both of his, exhaling long, warming breaths into them while he dragged me to stand in the line. “Here, let’s do this.” He wrapped my arms around his waist under his flannel and pulled me close. His warmth seeped into my chilled veins. He was known for being a furnace when we slept together, but now his warmth was used to melt the ice cube I had become while waiting for him. My shoulders instantly relaxed, the crease in my brow was now flat. I tucked my head into his chest. His cologne had filled my nostrils and flooded my brain, soothing the deepest parts of trouble. He always had this effect on me, one word, one move, one text from him could soothe any tension from the day that had built up. 

Chan had this power about him, a command that all living things seemed in tune to. If he wanted you to listen, you did. If he wanted you to talk, you would. But even in the silence, his actions were loud enough for him that words weren’t necessary. 

Quite literally, I melted into him.The full force of me didn’t surprise him. He just pulled me impossibly closer and rested his cheek on my hair. 

“You would think with so many muscles you wouldn’t be this squishy.” I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled. 

“I’m glad to hear that…I think.” He said. After a moment his voice questioned. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.” I said as I nuzzled closer. “A very good thing.”