#this is almost the whole article but not quite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sxcretricciardo · 2 months ago

Text

impossible (l.n) - pt.2

part one here

A few days after your karting session with Lando, Max, and Magui, you were scrolling through your phone when an article popped up with a headline that immediately caught your eye: “Lando Norris and Magui Corceiro: A New Romance?”

You swallowed hard as you skimmed through the article, looking at the images. Lando and Magui, in their matching karting suits, looking like they belonged together. It wasn’t jealousy—it wasn’t even disappointment. It was just a quiet, unexpected sadness that you couldn’t quite shake. You had always been there for Lando, and while you were glad to see him happy, seeing it this way, with everyone knowing, made it feel… different.

You sat there for a moment, your phone in your hands, staring at the screen. You weren’t upset with him—not at all. He deserved to be happy. And you weren’t going to let it show.

But still, the shift in everything—the fact that it was now out there for the world to see—stung in ways you weren’t prepared for.

A notification from Max suddenly popped up on your screen.

Max: “I saw the article. You okay?”

You hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering over the keys. Max knew. He knew about your feelings for Lando, and he had always been there for you. He was perceptive—too perceptive sometimes.

You typed back quickly, trying to keep it light and casual.

You: “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect it to go public like that. It’s all a little overwhelming, I guess.”

Max responded almost immediately.

Max: “I know it’s a lot. But you’re happy for him, right? I know you care about him a lot, but I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check. You were happy for Lando. You really were. But it didn’t change the fact that you had feelings for him too, and it hurt a little to see him with someone else—especially with the whole world watching.

You: “Yeah, of course I’m happy for him. He deserves to be happy. I’m just… adjusting, I guess. It’s different now, that’s all.”

Max seemed to sense that there was more to it, and his reply was soft, understanding.

Max: “I know. It’s tough. You don’t have to pretend like it’s easy. I get it. But you’ve always been there for him, and you always will be. That won’t change.”

You smiled faintly at his message. Max always knew how to make you feel better, even when you didn’t want to admit that something was bothering you.

You: “I know. Thanks, Max. Really. It’s just a little weird now, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Max: “You’re strong. And you’re a great friend to him. You’ll find your way through it. I’m here if you need to talk or do something to take your mind off it.”

You: “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

You put your phone down, taking a deep breath. You had told yourself you were okay with this. You really were happy for Lando. But seeing it all out there like that, with the world knowing the relationship wasn’t something you were prepared for.

You weren’t going to let it affect your friendship with him. That was the most important thing. But deep down, you couldn’t help but feel the shift, the sting of realizing that Lando was happy with someone else—and that the world now knew it.

Still, you would find a way to be happy for him. It would just take some time.

It had been a month since the article about Lando and Magui went public. For the first week, you kept yourself together. You were happy for Lando, really happy for him. But there was a quiet ache you couldn’t shake. You didn’t want to admit it, not even to yourself, but seeing them together, knowing they were so happy, brought up feelings you hadn’t fully acknowledged.

Instead of talking about it, you retreated. Writing had always been your escape, and so you threw yourself into it. You locked yourself away in your apartment, your studio, pouring your emotions into music. Every lyric, every beat seemed to reflect the swirling sadness in your chest. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed as you worked endlessly on a new album. Each song seemed to tell a different version of your feelings—fragments of joy, sorrow, frustration, and longing.

You threw yourself into the music so completely that the world outside of your apartment felt distant. Lando’s voice, the sound of Max’s laughter, the noise of the busy streets outside—none of it seemed to matter. Music became your world, and you could lose hours or even entire days in your creative space. But what you didn’t realize was that, in the process of losing yourself to your art, you had also lost touch with everything else.

You had forgotten to check the time. Forgotten to answer messages from friends. Forgotten to even step outside. The only thing that mattered was the album, the only thing that kept you from spiraling deeper into the sadness that lingered beneath the surface.

But then one evening, as you were adjusting a chord in your latest track, you heard a knock at your door.

You frowned, pausing the music, and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past 8 p.m. Who would be at your door now?

You walked over, opening it to find Max standing there, an eyebrow raised, concern evident on his face.

“Max?” you said, half surprised, half embarrassed. “What are you doing here?”

Max’s expression softened when he saw you. He’d always been able to read you better than anyone.

“Just checking in,” he said gently. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, though it felt weak. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just been busy working on my album.”

Max glanced inside, his eyes scanning the dimly lit apartment. The place was quiet—too quiet—and there was something about the mess of papers, scattered notebooks, and tangled cords that made him pause.

“You’ve been locked in here, haven’t you?” he said, his tone knowing but not accusatory. “You haven’t even been outside?”

You hesitated, running a hand through your hair. “I… I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’ve been working on the album. Just trying to… I don’t know. Forget for a while.”

Max stepped into your apartment, looking around at the sea of unfinished tracks and scribbled lyrics on the walls. He was speechless for a moment. “Wait… a whole album? In just a month?” His tone was a mix of disbelief and admiration. “I know you’re good, but damn. That’s impressive.”

You gave him a faint smile, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess I just… I needed to get it out, you know? I had all these feelings, and writing was the only way to deal with them.”

Max took a closer look at your space—songs and lyrics scattered everywhere. “This is… a lot, (Y/N). Have you even stopped to take a break? You’ve been isolating yourself from everyone.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of just how much time you’d spent holed up inside. “I guess I got a little lost in it. I didn’t realize how much time had gone by until now.”

Max’s expression softened as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t keep running from it. I get that you’ve been hurting, but you’ve got to face it eventually. You’re not going to find peace hiding in music forever.”

You nodded slowly, but before you could respond, Max’s eyes flicked to the side. He noticed your phone sitting on the desk, and gently nudged you in that direction. “Hey, you should check your messages. You’ve been MIA for weeks. Everyone is worried about you.”

You hesitated, your stomach doing a little flip as you reached for your phone. The screen lit up with dozens of notifications. You had missed so many messages.

You scanned through them—texts from Max, from your other friends, even some calls from your family. Everyone had been checking in, making sure you were okay.

But as you scrolled through, you couldn’t help but notice the one person who wasn’t there.

Lando.

There were no texts from him. No missed calls. No check-ins. Not even an emoji or a random “hey.” It struck you like a gut punch, and you couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that washed over you. You had been avoiding so many things, but now, seeing that Lando hadn’t reached out, it felt like one more thing you weren’t prepared to face.

You quickly pushed the phone away, trying to hide the hurt that had crept up inside you. Max noticed immediately.

“Lando didn’t text you?” Max asked, the concern in his voice evident.

You shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “I guess he’s been busy with everything going public. It’s fine. He’s probably just caught up in… you know… all of that.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “He’s your best friend, (Y/N). He should’ve reached out. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to talk to him, but I can’t believe he’d just leave you hanging like that.”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just got a lot going on. I’m not mad, really.”

But deep down, you were. The silence from Lando made the whole situation feel heavier. The weight of everything, all of your feelings, felt like it was suffocating you, and you didn’t know how to escape it.

Max could see it in your eyes. “Hey… don’t shut everyone out, alright? You’ve got people who care about you—me, your friends, your family. And you know Lando cares, even if he’s busy. He’s still your best friend.”

You nodded again, trying to convince yourself that it would be okay. That it was just a phase, a moment in time that would pass. But the emptiness in your chest remained.

Max gave you a small, comforting smile. “Take a break, (Y/N). You’ve got a lot of people who care about you. And… maybe it’s time to face things head-on.”

You sighed, finally feeling the full weight of your own emotions. Maybe Max was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

The past month had been a blur. After all the emotions you’d been burying, you finally found the courage to share your music with the world. Your album was finished, and with it, came the announcement: You were going on a worldwide tour. It felt like the next big step, the culmination of everything you had poured your heart into. It was exciting, overwhelming, and, for a moment, it gave you the distraction you needed from everything else.

You worked tirelessly, finalizing dates, rehearsing, and preparing for the biggest performance of your career. The adrenaline, the rush of knowing you would be performing in front of thousands of people—that was the kind of escape you needed. You weren’t going to think about Lando. You weren’t going to dwell on the way he’d pulled away. You were going to focus on your music, your career, and moving forward.

But there was a part of you that still couldn’t fully let go.

A week before the first show, you stared at your phone. You’d been meaning to text Lando for days. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night Max came over, and the absence of his texts still stung. You didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt that he hadn’t reached out, especially when you had tried to be supportive of him and Magui from the start.

You stared at the screen for a moment before finally typing a message.

You: “Hey Lando, I’m going on tour soon, and I wanted to invite you and Magui to one of my concerts! Would love to see you both there, if you can make it.”

You hesitated before hitting send. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it was awkward now. But you pressed the button anyway, trying to convince yourself that it was a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

You waited. Minutes passed. Then hours. And still, nothing.

You tried to shake it off. He was probably busy. Maybe Magui was keeping him occupied. It didn’t mean anything, right?

But deep down, you couldn’t help the sting that followed when there was no reply. You reminded yourself that the tour was your focus. You would pour everything into your performances, and hopefully, that would help you move on. After all, this was your moment. You didn’t need to rely on anyone else’s approval or presence to validate your success.

A few days later, with the first concert on the horizon, you had everything in place. You were ready. The stage, the lights, the music—it was all waiting for you. But before the first show, you took a deep breath and sent tickets to Max and Lando, hoping at least one of them would be there to support you. Max had always been your rock, and you were hoping Lando might surprise you, too.

You: “Hey! I’ve got tickets for you both to the first show of my tour. Hope to see you there! 😊”

You pressed send, trying to keep your expectations in check.

The night of the concert arrived. You were backstage, the excitement and nerves rushing through you. The crowd outside was buzzing with energy, waiting to hear your new music live. You’d never been more prepared, but the one thing you couldn’t shake was the thought of whether Lando would show up.

The concert started, the music flowing seamlessly as you performed with everything you had. Every note, every dance move was infused with emotion. But as you scanned the front row during your set, you found yourself searching for a familiar face—a pair of bright eyes, a smile that had been there through the highs and lows of your life.

But no Lando. No Magui.

You pushed it out of your mind and focused on the crowd. Max had promised to be there, and the familiar face you were hoping for did show up, standing proudly near the side of the stage with his girlfriend. You smiled when you spotted him, relieved that he hadn’t forgotten his promise.

Max and his girlfriend stood near the side of the stage, cheering you on as you performed. His girlfriend waved, and Max gave you a thumbs-up, mouthing “You’re killing it!” You couldn’t help but grin back, feeling a little bit lighter knowing he was there.

But even though Max was there, your heart couldn’t help but sink just a little as you noticed the empty seats around the front row. You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been hoping—just a little bit—that Lando would show up. But as the show went on, it was clear he wasn’t there. You forced yourself to focus, to give the crowd everything you had, but your mind kept wandering back to the thought of him.

After the performance, you made your way backstage, still buzzing from the energy of the concert. But even as you greeted your team and answered some press questions, your mind kept going back to the empty seats you had looked toward, hoping to see Lando and Magui. You knew it wasn’t the end of the world, but it still stung more than you wanted to admit.

Max came backstage, clapping you on the back with a big grin. “You were incredible! Seriously, (Y/N), the crowd was living for you.”

“Thanks, Max,” you said, trying to muster a genuine smile. But Max could see through it.

“I saw you looking out at the crowd,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, Y\N.”

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “Nah, it’s fine. They probably had other plans. I knew they were busy. I’m not upset.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar. But hey, I’m here, and I’m proud of you. You killed it out there. And I think a lot of people are going to be very, very happy with what they heard tonight.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Really.”

Max watched you for a moment, his face softening with concern. “Look, you’re going to have a killer tour. And if Lando’s going to be a jerk and miss it, that’s his problem. You’re doing amazing things, (Y/N). Don’t let him—or anyone—make you feel less than what you are.”

You nodded again, grateful for Max’s support, even though you couldn’t completely ignore the feeling that lingered in the back of your mind. The one that still wondered if Lando was out there, watching from somewhere far away, or if he’d just forgotten about you altogether.

Max gave you a knowing look. “I know you care about him, but sometimes, you’ve got to take care of yourself first. You’re the star of this show tonight. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, but deep inside, there was a lingering ache. You didn’t want to keep letting Lando’s absence hurt you. But no matter how hard you tried, the thought of him not showing up felt like a wound you weren’t ready to heal.

The tour had been intense. Night after night, you gave it your all on stage, the cheers of the crowd a fleeting escape from the lingering emptiness that had followed you for months. Despite the success of your shows, there was one thing you couldn’t shake: Lando’s absence.

No texts. No calls. No visits. It was as if he had vanished from your life, replaced by the bright lights of Formula 1 and his new relationship with Magui. Every time you tried to convince yourself that you were fine—that you had moved on—something inside you felt the loss of your best friend.

It wasn’t until after a show in Chicago that you checked your phone to see a message from Lando. Your heart skipped when you saw his name.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know it’s been a while, and I’m sorry. I’d love for you to come to the Miami GP. I have tickets for you. I want to talk.”

You stared at the message for a long moment, emotions rushing over you. He wanted to talk. After all this time. The words “I’m sorry” echoed in your mind, and you felt the sudden pull to see him again, to understand why he had been so distant.

You didn’t hesitate for long. You quickly packed your things and booked a flight to Miami. You had no idea what you were walking into, but you knew you needed closure. You had to know what had happened between you and Lando.

Miami greeted you with its usual heat and humidity, but you barely noticed. Your mind was focused on what you were about to face. Lando. Magui. The past few months of silence.

When you arrived at the paddock, you spotted Lando almost immediately. His familiar smile softened when he saw you, though there was an underlying tension in his posture. As you approached, you gave him a tentative smile.

“Hey, Lando,” you said, your voice careful, as if testing the waters.

“(Y/N),” he said, his expression warm but tinged with regret. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve been wanting to talk. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. I know I’ve messed up.”

You nodded slowly, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I’ve been wondering why, Lando. You just disappeared. No texts, no calls. It was like you didn’t care anymore.”

Lando shifted uncomfortably, looking down for a moment. “I… I never meant to hurt you. I’ve just been so focused on everything—my racing, my relationship with Magui—it’s been a lot, and I didn’t know how to balance it all.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted you. You turned to see Magui walking toward you, a smile on her face as she linked her arm with Lando’s. You couldn’t ignore the sudden shift in the air. It was like everything between you and Lando had just… changed.

Magui’s eyes flicked to you briefly. She stood too close to Lando, and you could feel the tension building. It was clear that things were different now.

Lando, sensing your discomfort, hesitated. But before he could say anything, Magui spoke up. “(Y/N), I’m so glad you could make it! We missed you.”

You nodded politely, but a small, quiet part of you couldn’t help but feel an ache deep inside. Magui’s presence had taken up the space that had once been yours.

“Yeah, the tour has been keeping me busy.” you said, your voice steady, though the words didn’t feel as natural as they should. “It’s good to see you two doing well.”

Magui smiled, her gaze not unkind, but possessive.

The conversation quickly fizzled out, and soon, Lando was busy with his team, preparing for the race. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being left in the shadows. As much as you wanted to confront him, to ask him why he hadn’t made an effort, the situation just felt more complicated than you had expected.

The race went by, and despite the distance between you and Lando, you still watched him, waiting to see if he would finally take a moment to talk. The tension was palpable, and you knew that things were still unresolved. But the moment finally came—Lando crossed the finish line in first place. His first-ever career victory. You couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride for him, but it was bittersweet. The man who had once been your best friend had changed so much, and you were left to figure out where you fit in his new life.

After the race, Max came up to Lando, his face serious. He looked like he’d been waiting for the right moment to confront him, and now, it was time.

Max marched over to Lando, his voice sharp. “You’ve been avoiding her for months, Lando. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Lando blinked, clearly caught off guard by Max’s anger. “What are you talking about? I’ve been busy with the races and—”

Max cut him off, his frustration clear. “I’m talking about (Y/N). You’ve completely shut her out. She’s your best friend, and you’ve acted like she doesn’t matter. What is going on with you?”

Lando’s face fell, guilt flooding his expression. “I know, Max. I’ve been an idiot. But it’s… complicated. Magui, she doesn’t like how close I am to (Y/N). She doesn’t want me spending time with her, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Max’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re seriously going to let her dictate this? You’re letting your relationship mess up your friendship with (Y/N)? That’s not okay, Lando.”

Lando’s shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, Max. I didn’t want to choose between the two of them. But I guess I ended up losing both. I haven’t been there for (Y/N) because… because Magui doesn’t want me to be. And I let it happen.”

Max let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “You need to fix this, Lando. (Y/N) deserves better than this, and so do you. You can’t just throw everything away because you’re scared of Magui.”

Lando was quiet for a long moment, the weight of Max’s words sinking in. He finally nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. I don’t know how to make it right, but I want to.”

As Max walked away, you stood in the distance, processing everything you had just heard. The truth was painful—Lando had let his relationship with Magui dictate his actions, pushing you away when you needed him the most.

But even then, you knew that things couldn’t just go back to the way they were. You didn’t want to be the one to fix everything for him. It wasn’t just about you being his friend anymore. You had to look out for yourself too.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you realized you still cared for Lando. But that didn’t mean you had to let him back in if it hurt too much.

part three here

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

485 notes · View notes

wysteria-bloom · 1 year ago

Text

⚝ " i'll never smile again "

The hazbin boys are visibly stressed

Warnings : I used female pronouns. There are mentions of Valentino. Highly suggestive in Vox's part because yeah it makes sense. Alastor offers to go on a murderous rampage with the reader 🥰

Genre : Fluff, suggestive

A/n : I hate the people in my life and they stress me tf out so I'm writing to vent my frustrations out. :) I only included my favs in this one but if you would like a part two with other characters then say the word.

Characters : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

▢ vox ᯤ

- Offering sexual favours -

Vox growled to himself gently as he typed away at the screen in front of him, eyes honing in obsessively on the words and news articles.

He was on media control right now because fucking Val blew up on Angel in public today.

Now he's forced to get rid of every media that is sculpting Valentino out to be the bad guy.

Whoopee fucking doo.

"Fuckin' Val... stupid idiot.... stupidly hot idiot." He sighed out, running his hands down his face tiredly then his eyes widened with an idea,"... Where's my assistant."

"Here, sir."

"Fuckin' christ-!" He yelped out at the sudden voice and he spun around quickly in his chair, coming face to face with her amused little shit-eating grin. He glared, scowl on his lips," You been there the whole time?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, hands folded in her lap modestly.

"You're a little creep, y'know that?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the painful cracks that resounded from them," You seen the media?"

She nodded," yes, quite the 'clusterfuck' as you would put it."

His lip twitched in amusement," perfect descriptor, honestly." He then clicked his fingers at the screen," Is Troy on today? Tell him to deal with the rest of the articles pl-"

"It's Troy's day off today, sir." (Name) interrupted, walking so she was standing next to him, she leaned over him a little to click away at the tabs he had opened," But I will call him to come in. You need rest." She replied promptly.

Vox watched her with an almost sleepy look in his eyes, watching her close down the articles with quick and manicured claws.

"What would I do without you, eh?" He hummed out.

A chuckle flitted from her lips and he found himself entranced by the sound of it," I think you'd do well for yourself without me, sir." She reassured with a gentle voice and stepped away from the desk a little, turning to face him," would you like me to accompany you to your room?"

He blinked and then smirked," how forward of you, sweetheart." He cooed out with that sultry tone of his," Take me out to dinner first, yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side with an owlish blink,"... Would you like to go to dinner? Would that be a better form of stress relief for you that the first option?"

His mouth fell open with a shocked look as he stared at her, a little buffering symbol in the top right corner of his screen for a moment before it disappeared, a dark blush appearing on his face," f-fuck wait... w-were you suggesting we..."

"We have sex? Yes. I hear it's a rather fantastic way of stress relief and you are a rather sexually frustrated individual so it would-"

He place a hand over her mouth as he stood from his chair, basically towering over her.

There was a hungry look in his eyes as he let that charming grin twitch onto his lips," You're about the best damn fuckin' assistant I've ever had."

She smiled beneath his hand and grabbed onto his wrist gently, maneuvering it so she could place an oh-so-gentle kiss to his wrist whilst looking into his eyes," I'm honoured, sir." She hummed out in a sultry fashion.

Vox gulped, his self-control snapping, red leaking from his mouth," I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

▢ alastor ⍋

- Expressing your issues over a glass of giggle juice -

A sigh and a huff fell from her lips as she made her way into the hotel lobby, shoulders sagging from a long day of work.

There seemed to be nobody in the lobby as she walked over to the bar and poured herself out a glass of whiskey.

"Late-night drinking? That's not like you." The familiar static of Alastor graced her ears.

(Name) blinked and looked over to him, noticing how tensed his smile seemed. His eyes looked... genuinely exhausted. His ears flopped downwards ever so slightly.

"Looks like you should be joining me," She hummed back and grabbed another glass, wiggling it at him suggestively.

He watched it for a second before relaxing and grabbing it, sitting next to her at the bar and pouring the liquid. He took a sip with her and his smile seemed to curl in a more soft way now.

"Hm, I dare say my dear, that does just hit the spot doesn't it?" He hummed out, a more relaxed expression on his face.

"You can say that again. No wonder Husk is an alcoholic, I understand the appeal after having an awful day." She replied with a nod of agreement," yknow, sometimes I wish Hell was just a personal purgatory instead of me having to deal with other people's shit."

"Agreed. It gets tiring, doesn't it? Makes you want to go a little batshit insane, yes?" He said this with a polite tone of voice, ears perked up.

"I want to go on a murderous rampage every second of every day."

"We could join forces if it ever came to that. We would kill twice the amount of demons."

She grinned at him," how flattering. You'd go on a murder spree with me, Al?"

He pressed a hand to his heart to express his genuine sincerity," Dear, if I ever say no to a question like that then I give you my full and utter permission to kill me in the most brutal way you can think of." He replied honestly, and (name) didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned but she found herself laughing along anyways.

"What a charmer," She grinned at him brightly," You can be so romantic when you want to, hm?"

"Romance has nothing to do with it. It is merely etiquette." He tilted his head at her, resting it in the palm of his hand, expression seemingly brightened from just a conversation with her," what's got you so downtrodden?"

She deflated a little, smile tired," Overworked and under-appreciated for the work I do." She replied simply, taking a sip of her whiskey," I'll never smile again~" She sang sadly.

Alastor perked up at the familiar song," until I smile at youuu~" he serenaded, smile only widening at the sound of her amused laughter.

Then he looked her over, an almost disappointed glint in his eyes," I still wonder why you work for that insolent shitbox after all these years." His smile seemed to sharpen at the thought of Vox," He doesn't deserve you at all. Not a single bit."

(Name) shrugged," I'm helpless, what can I say?"

"You're not. You're a strong woman, (name). Stand up for yourself. And if you can't stand?" His eyes glowed sinisterly," Break his legs off so you can."

She stared on for a second before raising her glass," Most sound advice I've heard for years."

Alastor barked out an amused laugh and raised his hlass to hers, "For that compliment? I will break his legs for you if it is needed, darlin'. "

Clink went their glasses as they enjoyed each other's company for a while longer.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

- Gentle caresses and positive affirmations -

"Okay so... meeting with the angels next week... then I have to call Michael- eugh cowabummer... then I have to-"

(Name) watched her friend flail around his office with a concerned frown on her lips, arms crossed over her chest.

He's been so stressed lately. He had that little break in between where he could just... chill.

And make his cute rubber duckies.

But now with everything in the hotel, he's had a lot more work on his shoulders. Specifically with Heaven, as unfortunate as that was.

She saw his claws scratching through his hair as he paced back and forth, as though he was entranced by all these... issues. He's so entranced he's forgotten she's there with him.

So she sighed and lifted herself from the wall and walked into his walk-cycle path, grabbing onto his shoulders before he could crash into her.

He blinked in surprise and met eyes with her, a dumbfounded expression on his face," Oh... Hey."

She smiled," Hey."

"Sorry, you've probably heard me complain enough lately. Your pretty ears must be burning with all the yapping-"

"Of course not, Lou..." She huffed out, interrupting him with a frown of disapproval. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his arms, rubbing gentle touches of comfort," I think you've got too much on your plate lately - you using me as an outlet to vent to is the least of my problems."

He deflated a little, a tiredly wry grin on his lips," You're... you're too nice, y'know that?"

"What? You'd rather I spit and degrade you~?" She flirted teasingly with a fanged grin.

"No thanks... for now." He then sighed and moved his head to rest on her chest, cheek smooshing against her collar bone," I need a vacation."

(Name) laughed as she threaded her fingers through his mussed-up hair gently and soothingly," You were basically on a vacation already, hon. Now's the time to get back to work. Put all those wonderful thoughts and dreams to good use."

He melted in her arms, closing his eyes slowly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. This felt more domestic than platonic, but the two of them were too focused on eachother to admit that.

"You'll stay, right? I like having you here." He mumbled tiredly," U-unless you don't wanna which I totally understand and a-accept... y'know, you don't have to be here if you don't want t-"

"Stop worrying you dummy." (Name) chuckled out,"... I'd love to stay here with you."

"Phew..." He huffed and grinned sharply," Good to hear... a-amazing to hear!... Y... you're the best."

"Don't I know it~!"

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #vox x valentino #im sad and tired #writing can only save me from the bleak reality that is life

2K notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 10 months ago

Text

The thing about LLMs is that they're like cars that have a touchscreen on the console; it's more expensive and worse than what came before in almost all circumstances.

And like car touchscreens it's something that I suspect that the vast majority of consumers dislike and would prefer not to use.

But that doesn't mean that touchscreens are bad it just means they don't belong in cars.

It *IS* a massive problem that "AI" is being shoved at us by a bunch of people who invested WAY too much into AI and are trying to make a return on their investment. It is *ALSO* a problem that "AI" is a terrible name for the pattern interpretation tools that tech companies have dumped billions of dollars into so people are being told that a lot of things that are just pretty basic algorithmic tools are "AI," which makes the whole thing feel overhyped, oversold, and useless (which it is for a tremendous number of people!)

But I get really frustrated with claims that AI slop is what ruined google search (google search has been ruined for a long time; when their goal became "people need to do more searches so we can serve them more ads" instead of "we need to return the best results for our users" it was destroyed and that had nothing to do with AI and everything to do with a profit motive) or that AI is why we're being inundated by spammers (spammers have been a problem for a VERY long time) or that it's impossible to find good info these days because the internet is full of garbage AI articles to generate clicks (that has been the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE in terms of research for MUCH LONGER than GPT4 has been around it is called search engine optimization and if you haven't had your results full of poorly written non-information listicles for the last seven years I suspect you haven't been doing quite the same volume of searching as I have been).

These are known problems that are being exacerbated by this particular kind of tool, but the problem with phishing isn't that the emails are extremely tailored to particular users, it's that the world is chock full of scammers who are incentivized to treat people like shit for money.

974 notes · View notes

samsno1 · 1 year ago

Text

Dream Of Me

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

i was going to do this fic much, much longer, it would have a whole plot and all but i am so exhausted i wasn't feeling it so have this short horny ass one-shot because i was ovulating while writing this lol

Summary: You quite literally got into Sam's head...

Warnings: SMUTish, m. masturbation, use of y/n, descriptions of nudity, *almost* cunnilingus (read it so you will understand lmao), kissing, nipple sucking, marking (?), english is not my first language

You can learn how to change "Y/N" for your actual name here

Read it on AO3

Read Part Two

WC: 2.3k

enjoy!

Sam kissed you deeply, his lips dragging against yours eagerly. His big hands grabbed at your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin through your clothes. His tongue sinfully entered your mouth, exploring the warmth and groaning at your taste.

Your hands wrapped themselves behind his neck, fingers brushing through his long locks, lightly tugging at each lap of his tongue through your lips. He slowly walked you back, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and Sam gently held your upper back to place you softly over the covers, mouths never leaving each other. His long hair tickled your cheeks, his nose bumped into yours. His desire was almost palpable as his kisses became more and more desperate, his hands clawing at your back as one of his knees supported his weight between your thighs. His long torso angled itself in an arch to keep his assault on your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, a whine escapes your throat, your raw lips begging for more as your eyes watch his flushed face. He panted above you as he straightened up, his arms crossing to grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it off, the collar of the clothing lifting his hair and then making it bounce back in place perfectly, a stupid grin on his face – a sinful, I know you like what you see grin – as he catches your beautiful eyes analyzing every bit of exposed skin.

He places both his hands on each side of your head, his hair framing his face, a little curtain to hide the absolutely hungry look on his eyes.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He questions and you nod in affirmation. He dips down again to attack your neck with open mouthed kisses and bites, making you whine and mewl on his ears and your hands reach for his back, your nails digging into the flesh. His hands drag down your front, bumping against your hard nipples and going low enough so that he can drag your shirt up, his obnoxiously long fingers brushing against your hot skin and throwing even more wood in the fire that was in your belly.

He pulls away momentarily and you lift your arms above your head so that he can take the shirt off for you, the clothing blocking the stunning view of an aroused Sam Winchester for a few seconds as it goes through your head. When he finally throws the shirt away on the ground he practically pouts when he sees the bra covering your breasts and sensually – slowly – trails his hands to your back, leaving yet another mind blowing kiss on your lips, humming, fucking humming in delight, just for being able to do this to you.

He unclasps the undergarment, and you feel him smile against your lips as if he was saying finally I can really see you. As he takes yet another article of clothing off of you he really eyes you down – I mean really. He registers every curve, every scar and every single particle of your skin, his lust-blown eyes eating you alive right then and there, your chest going up and down with deep breaths, your abused mouth half open, your hands splayed beside your head – everything.

He takes a single hand to caress over your skin, starting low at your neck and slowly coming down at the valley of your breasts, down your belly until he’s below your belly button then his other hand joins the action, one on each side of you, dragging up your waist and feeling around your ribs until they finally grab at each boob, squeezing. You groan and grab at both his wrists to keep him there, the little stimulation you got better than anything. He hums above you, his head dipping down to leave feather-light kisses over your collarbones.

“So pretty” He murmurs against your skin “So, so beautiful for me Y/N”

You sigh as he massages your breasts, his mouth dragging down to one of your nipples, wrapping around it and hollowing his cheeks, sucking on your skin and circling his tongue around your tit. You arch your back, a low moan rippling through your throat as you roll your hips, trying to find any kind of friction for the ache between your thighs.

“Sam…” You plead, grabbing at his hair to tug. He groans at your action, biting lightly on your nipple and you shriek. He lifts his head up, chuckling lowly, evil even, a smug smirk on his face, his dimples making him look even prettier above you. He lets your breasts go and smashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your complaints.

His hands hold you at your belt loop and he bumps his crotch against yours and oh my god. You let out a cry, breaking the connection, and hide your head in his shoulder, your mouth kissing below his ear lobe as you whisper to him:

“Please, please, please, do something, Sam” You beg and he hushes you, one of his hands going towards your lower back to hug your naked tummy against his defined body. He squeezes your skin, wanting to mold into you and turn you inside out.

“Shh, beautiful, I’m gonna take care of you” He says, kissing your neck and unbuttoning your tight jeans with one hand. Excitement runs through his veins, his mouth still marking your skin.

His hand finally manages to unzip your pants and he flattens his palm against your lower belly to drag his fingers below the waistband of your panties. He swipes one teasing middle finger between your folds making you buck against his hand and let out a cry of desperation. He brings his finger out, making you groan in complaint until he lifts his head up, grabs your chin and makes you stare at him in the eyes.

When he’s sure you’re looking, he inserts his slick soaked finger into his mouth and sucks on it, pleasurable noises coming out of his throat as he savors your taste on his tongue, his eyes closing in bliss. The sight is beyond unholy, the action making your cunt clench into nothing, your glossy eyes couldn’t look away and Sam was taking advantage of that. Nothing you’ve ever experienced with anyone before made you feel so needy for someone's mouth between your thighs, eating you out with all their want, need, for you, nose deep into your pussy. Sam did that.

He takes his finger out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips with his tongue and he opens his eyes to look at you and you are, for sure, looking at him, completely hypnotized by his spell. He grins and dips his head close to your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body.

“I’m going to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop, until you’re physically unable to take anything anymore” He whispers and bites at your earlobe and jesus fucking christ where did this man get this mouth. You let out a shaky breath at his words, the fantasy making you squeeze your legs together.

“Please, please, please” You beg as Sam starts kissing down your body, open mouthed kisses left and right. His mouth bit and sucked at points he learned made you tingly inside and your hips roll below him. When he gets to the waistband of your pants he hooks two fingers of each hand through it to drag both your underwear and your jeans down your legs. It felt cold for about three seconds until the sight of Sam looking up at your face through his long lashes, eyes filled with lust, burned you from the inside out.

Once you were completely bare under him he left kisses in each of your inner thighs, his calloused hands kneading on the skin. You look down again, his hair brushes your legs, his mouth so close, so, so close that you could feel his breath against your soaked cunt. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you felt like the last woman on earth, wondering how this man could be so perfect, inside and outside. He finally starts to approach your folds, his mouth slowly opening to wrap around your clit and…and…

“Sammy wake up!” Sam’s shaken awake by a hand on his arm and takes a deep breath in. He rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light that got turned on by whoever disturbed his sleep – his very good and desirable sleep. His blurred vision starts to focus on the figure besides his bed. Dean towers over Sam in his robe, an unfazed look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand that isn’t holding his arm.

“Dean?” He questions, voice hoarse from sleep, as he sits up on the bed, the covers falling from his chest to pool around his hips, still hiding his legs below it. Dean drops his hand from his upper arm “What time is it?”

“About 10AM” He says “We might’ve found a case, we need your help with research” He affirmed and Sam nodded. Oh my god. You. How was he going to face you? How was he going to be able to concentrate on your explanation of the case to him when he just fantasized about his mouth between your legs eating you – scratch that – almost eating you out? I’m screwed. “Clean up and meet me and Y/N at the library” Dean says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts and giving him a slap on his back, to which Sam groaned in annoyance. He leaves the room soon after, closing the door behind him.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands supporting his upper body against the mattress. Just now did he notice the blood pulsing between his legs and the way he seemed hotter than usual. He rubbed both hands over his face, get it together, God damn it. He threw his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, making a beeline to the bathroom. He needed a cold shower, an ice bath, drown in the lakes of Alaska, anything to cool his body and his thoughts.

Every time he blinked there you were, his disheveled hair and lust blown pupils looking up at you. It had been some time since he started developing a crush on the huntress, your kind and caring – but at the same time firm and assertive – personality got him hooked pretty quick and your smartness always impressed him. Dean often made fun of you for being sort of a nerd – in his words – but that just made you even more desirable for him. And, of course, you looked incredible. Your killer body and beautiful features made you look amazing even when you were covered in monster guts.

Peeling off his clothes and turning the water to the coldest setting definitely helped. But, his boner was still there. He cursed to himself and hesitantly wrapped a hand around his cock, eyes closing and teeth digging into his lips to hold back any noise. He started rubbing slowly, up and down, visions of you on his head, beneath him, hair messed up by his hands and skin marked by his mouth and teeth. He wondered how your pussy would taste on his tongue, which noises you would make when he finally brought you over that edge just with his mouth. Then with his fingers. Then…

He quickened his movements, his chest going up and down quickly with deep breaths. Sam should feel bad for touching himself to the thought of you, he should feel bad for dreaming of you that way but he just couldn’t. The images of you flashing into his mind were making him feel thoroughly euphoric, his heartbeat could be felt in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining your cries of pleasure as he pumped into you or the different positions he could put you in. Fucking you against the shower wall or over the map table.

His drenched hair fell besides his face, the cold water running down his head and back as he slightly hunched over. One of his hands supported his weight against the wall while the other grasped tightly at his shaft. He thought about you moaning his name, much like you did in the dream, and how it sounded so sweet yet so arousing.

His breathing was shallow, his hands were shaking and with a sigh of your name he finally came. He was in bliss, the orgasm hitting him like a truck. He pressed his forearm against the wall in a horizontal position and rested his head over it, his softening dick still in his hand. He opened his eyes, the sound of the water falling to the ground finally being processed by his brain again.

Jesus Christ.

The guilt suddenly hit him and he shook his head, partially in disbelief at what his body and mind made him feel. And do. Even if his body calmed down, his brain still had that dream practically memorized. He sighed, cleaning himself up all over again, the mess he made going down the drain, hiding the evidence. He got out of the shower, toweling his hair and drying his face.

He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed but, besides that, nothing could give anything away. He breathed out a chuckle.

“God damn it” He whispered to himself as he proceeded to dry the rest of his body with a different towel than the one he used in his hair, then wrapping that towel around his hips and going back to his room to change into different clothes. Today was going to be a long day.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo

Read Part Two

2K notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 8 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@thedonswife13

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@mrsstuckyboo

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@sidraaaaaaaaa

@aritoocute

@preeyansha

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@writeyourworld

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@vioplay19

@thebuckybarnesvault

@unaxv

@hzdhrtss

@blackbirdwitch22

@darsynia

@lokislady82

@bonkybarnes106

@kandis-mom

@imrandomstuffsblog

@chimchoom

@wintrsoldrluvr

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@sebastians-love

@kythefangirl25

@mrsnikstan

@identity2212

@justsebstan

534 notes · View notes

rosenclaws · 8 months ago

Note

Hi again! 👋

I'm throwing another request at ya since you did such an awesome job with the last fic idea I requested. (Thank you again for that)

This time with the OG Logan and all his kitty cat hair glory lol.

The reader has similar powers to scarlet witch. Like telekinetic powers, levitation, etc. Can it be a scenario where she loses connection (like how wanda feels connected to vision) with Logan and thinks that he's dead and she just snaps. The villians who claims they killed him mock her and she pulls the move like wanda did in Endgame where she's like you took everything from me, and the villians don't know who she is and she's like you will and just goes full beast mode on the villians involved.

Bonus, Logans alive, he just was knocked out real bad and sees the whole fight happen and was like wow I love her and they reunite and it ends all fluffy with a kiss, maybe a proposal? Lol 😘

Heartbeat || Logan Howlett x Reader

a/n: This was such a great request and I have to say I really loved writing this. I did. go a little angstier than I thought I would and its darker than I expected it to turn out but I really hope you like it. Your mutant name is firefly. Also. I still haven't seen the movies so I apologize if its not accurate to how the X-Men work or anything im sorry sdakfjl;

warnings: fake out death, violence, blood, killing, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, the reader goes on a rampage, he calls you honey, reader almost dies, creepy ass villian guy.

wc: 2.3k

"You alright there honey?" Logan's hand gently rests on your shoulder.

You're staring blankly out the jet window, watching the clouds pass by as you ready yourself for what is pretty much a suicide mission. A whole organization that had been hiding underground, dedicated to eradicating mutants.

They've studied you. Planned. They know things, your strengths, your weaknesses. A few people had infiltrated their base and what they found...It made you shiver. Photos and articles and deeply personal information.

They had photos of you and Logan.

It made you paranoid sometimes. Like they were always watching. So you had to put a stop to it as soon as possible. You didn't go on missions often. Your powers were, quite destructive. Powerful yes but not always needed but the X-Men needed everyone they could. You take a deep breath and try to smile convincingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Logan snorts and cocks an eyebrow.

"You're lying right through those pretty teeth." There's an air of fear in the jet. You all know what might happen if you don't succeed.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. Promise."

"Yeah they're no match for the Wolverine and Firefly." Scott teases making Logan roll his eyes. Scott just loved messing with Logan, taking any jab he can to lighten the mood.

"Can it bub." He turns his attention back to you, happy to see a small smile on your face. Logan takes your hand and places it on his chest. Your hands glow as you reach deep and feel his heartbeat.

"See?" You take a deep breath as you listen.

Sometimes you got too much into your own head. Your powers were tricky and when you got overwhelmed Logan always knew how to calm you down. The world around you fades as you focus on the beat of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest. He was your rock. The jet jolts and Logan holds onto you as you stumble.

"Think I got time for a quick smoke before we head out?"

"No you do not." Storm walks up to the two of you, she shoos Logan away who reluctantly leaves.

"We're landing in 10 minutes, are you ready Firefly?" You take a deep breath and nod.

You stare at your hands as you little particles of orange start to sprout from your fingers. You had control of your powers most of the time but they were still a work in progress but you knew that this mission was important so you couldn't afford to lose control.

Once the jet lands Scott and Storm tell everyone the plan again. This was for the future of mutant kind and there was a lot at stake. Each of you had a small usb drive that would corrupt and destroy any files still left in their system. Infiltrate and destroy all of their plans.

"Do you feel like pancakes?" Logan asks as you step out of the jet.

"What?" He shrugs and stands a little taller.

"There's this diner, open all night. Thought that after you'd want to get something to eat." You know what he's doing. Trying to make you feel better, to believe that you'll make it out alive. You can't die if you have a plans.

"Sure Logan, pancakes sounds great."

"Then it's a date." Logan heads in the opposite direction of you.

He's part of the brute force while you slip into the shadows. Still it pains you to be away from him. A storm rumbles in the distance and you hurry off to your position, afraid of what was to come. Still you keep going.

This was going to end tonight.

"Shit!" You hiss as a bullet wizzes past you.

Things had went to shit pretty quickly and it's an all out brawl now. With a wave of your hands soldiers go flying to who knows where. You sneak behind one and infiltrate his mind. Using his fears to show you exactly where the main computer was being held. He falls to the ground and you step over him as you sneak inside.

It was getting bad, you could feel it. Feel the tiredness and pain your friends were feeling. The guards fall one by one as you make it to the center console room. Exhaustion was creeping up on you. Your powers exerting every bit of strength you had. Still you knew what had to be done.

You plugged in the usb drive and watched as the system crashes, deleting every single bit of information they could have on the X-Men. Then you slowly envelop the console with your powers, crushing it until there's nothing left. You press your finger to your ear, alerting the team you had wiped their main computer in the comms. There's nothing but static on the other end.

"Guys?" You feel your heart start to race as you run out of the building.

"Hello? Anyone? Storm, Jean, Logan?" Still nothing.

Suddenly you feel this horrible, horrible pit in your chest. You stop in your tracks. Blood running cold as terrible feeling washes over you. Logan. You can't explain it, but somethings wrong.

"Logan!" You plead into your comms for him to respond.

You burst through the doors and back onto the field. Your breath hitching as you see the destruction in front of you. For any normal villain's they would have been nothing in the way of you guys, but these people knew exactly who you were. Exactly how to stop each and every one of you.

It was a losing battle.

Your eyes dart around as you send blast after blast, trying to help but with every move of your hands you feel weaker. Suddenly you hear a loud yell, you turn around to see Logan driving his claws deep into the chest of someone. You feel relieved seeing him still standing.

"Logan!" You call out to him and he looks your way. There's blood splattered all over his face and he looks worried. He runs towards you as fast as he could go.

"Get down!" He roars.

BANG

It all happens so slowly.

You look to your side to see a man with a gun aimed right at you. The exhaustion plagues your brain as you react too late. You see Logan running at you. A desperate look in his face as he jumps at you. You hit the ground and so does Logan. He rolls away and lays still. To your horror there's a bullet right in his forehead.

"Logan!" You screech.

You scramble to his side. He's not getting up. Why is he not getting up? He heals. He should be fine. His healing factor should have kicked in so why isn't he getting up. You reach out to him but someone grabs your leg before you can. Your hands dig into the ground as you're yanked back. Dragged to the center of the field.

"Get the fuck off me!" You kick your feet and scream loudly.

Your hands glow but you're face is shoved to the ground, a foot on your neck slowly stopping the air from entering your lungs. You can feel your strength draining. You try and use your powers but you can't.

"He's dead sweetheart. Think we don't know about that neat little regeneration of his?" The man above you laughs and you start to feel sick.

"We're not fucking stupid." He takes his foot off your neck and you gasp for air. He reaches down and grabs you by the neck, forcing you to turn and look at Logan.

"Where's that healing of his now?" Logan remains unmoving, you try and reach out to him. Using any bit of your power to search for him but nothing. You can't feel anything. Tears start to fall as you let out an anguished cry.

"I thought you were supposed to be strong? We heard so much about you and now look at you." He lets go of your neck and you crawl to your knees. Clutching your chest as sobs wrack your body.

"Don't worry though," You hear a gun cock behind you.

"It'll be over soon. Go ahead and say hi to your little boyfriend for us."

You look up at him and feel nothing but an overwhelming amount of pure rage. How fucking dare they. They threatened your life, your friends, your world. They took your peace. They took Logan. The love of your life, he died saving you. Your hands glow bright orange, your chest heaving as you glare at the man standing in front of you.

"Oh look at that, looks like you can do something." He sneers. You chuckle darkly. Tilting your head to the side you smile. Your eyes start to glow as you become strangely calm.

"You took everything from me...So I'm going to take it all from you." You scream as a large wave of energy bursts from your body.

A wave knocking back everyone in your radius including your team. The line of friend and foe blur as you go on a rampage. Disposing of anyone who came after you with ease.

"Firefly!" Storm calls out to you, you were becoming uncontrollable. No one can even get near you. Jean tries to get into your head but you block her out.

No one can get to you now.

They took him from you and you were going to make him pay. You stalk to the ones that were foolish enough to stay. Though they were crawling away now, pleading for mercy. It almost makes you laugh. They were showing no mercy when they planned to eradicate you and your friends. Why would you show them any now?

"That's enough!" Scott fires a beam to stop you in your tracks.

"They're surrendering." He reaches out to you but you push him away.

"I don't care." You snarl. You raise your hand and lift the stragglers up in the air. You're about to slam them to the ground but someone grabs onto your wrist.

"Stop!" The grip is tight as they spin you around. The glow in your eyes fade as you take in who stands in front of you.

"Logan?" You whisper. You try and shake your hand free but he doesn't budge.

"Let them go, honey." He says gently.

"They tried to kill you." You feel the fire come back but Logan does everything he can to calm it.

"But they didn't. They can't hurt us anymore." Still you don't move. He loosens the grip on your hand, taking your other hand and placing it on his chest.

"I'm alive, just feel." Slowly you lower your hand, softly letting the men fall as the rest of the team deal with them as you collapse into Logan's arms.

"I thought you were dead!” You cried. You rest your head against his chest, hand still gripping his suit.

“You weren’t moving and I, I couldn’t feel you.” He cradles the back of your head and holds you tight.

“I’m so sorry I scared you honey, I’m alive. Just knocked out for a little bit.” Logan feels horrible.

Maybe if he had been a little quicker you both would be okay and you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. He grabs your face and kisses you with an intensity you've never felt. It's sloppy and desperate but full of life. He's alive. He's telling you that he's alive.

When you pull apart there's still tears streaming down your face. Still so overwhelmed from everything. He lets you cry into his chest as he soothes you. Wiping away the tears as they come.

"I love you so much." He whispers so only you can hear.

The rest of the team watch but don’t say a word. Letting the two of you sit there as long as you need. Soon your tears dry up but you don’t let go of Logan.

It’s a quiet walk to the jet. Everyone is absolutely drained. You lean on Logan's shoulder as he draws shapes on your thigh with his thumb. Your hand rests on his wrist, pressing into his pulse just to make sure he's still breathing.

"Pancakes." You say quietly. Logan looks over in slight confusion.

"Huh?"

"You promised me pancakes," You crack a tired smile.

Logan stares at you for a moment before laughing in disbelief. The weight of what happened finally catching up to him. How close he was to losing it all, how close you were to complete destruction. The toll it's taken on everyone in the jet. The last thing on anyone's mind mind should be doing anything other than sleeping for a week yet pancakes feel like the best fucking idea ever.

"Yeah we can get pancakes honey, as many as you want." He kisses your forehead and places his chin on your head.

"With chocolate chips?" You ask playfully.

"I'll make 'em put in extra. Just for you." You hum happily as you lean in closer to him.

It's still a long flight back and one by one everyone starts to fall asleep. Soon it's just the rumbling of the plane. You look up to see Logan has fallen asleep, you watch his chest rise and fall. Just for a little bit.

He grumbles in his sleep, twitching slightly. There's a scowl on his face as he starts to shift more. Quietly you tap your fingers against his head, taking away his nightmares. He stops moving, relaxing under your touch. You smile softly as you slide your hand down to his chest.

Closing your eyes you feel his heart again. In the back of your mind swirls the horrible memories of today but you choose to ignore them for now. You close your eyes and allow yourself to rest. The steady beat of his heart acting as the perfect lullaby.

Just a steady reminder that everythings okay, there's nothing to fear anymore.

Thump

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett angst

476 notes · View notes

cozy-writes-things · 10 months ago

Text

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

#electric dreams 1984 #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #i love edgar #electric dreams edgar x reader #electric dreams 1984 x reader #objectum

525 notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

Text

Where Do You End Pt. 3

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have a talk.

Author's Note: Here we go. Dean about the be on his KNEES (for several reasons)

Word Count: 5.3k

A lot was happening.

Cold wind had filled Dean’s body—Her body—and then suddenly the bunker library was gone. Sammy was gone. Everything was gone, and he felt like he’d been flipped in and out, turned in a circle, and everything was spinning when the world came back into focus.

And he was so fucking confused.

He was back in his own body. Taller, easier to control, better to reach high things with, and less likely to accidentally move too fast and slam into something. He had his own legs and arms and feet and hands.

Dean had never really appreciated his hands before this. But son of a bitch, he’d missed them. One week without them, and he’d failed to open jars, had Her fancy, looping handwriting that he couldn’t even read, and dropped three guns. She could always hold a gun easily, but Dean had almost taken Sammy’s ear off.

He’d never take his hands for granted again.

He’d never take his body for granted. As fun as boobs had been for about two days—he’d never touched them, She would’ve killed him, but he’d liked watching them bounce—he’d quickly gotten sick of bras and how sometimes they just hurt. A lot of Her body had just hurt at random points through every single damn day. Dean was never going to be sure how She just did things, because he’d gotten a fresh wave of what Sammy had called post-menstrual syndrome, and he’d wanted to kill someone.

He’d missed being taller, missed having Little Dean, missed not needing to worry about walking through the gas station at night—he’d had to start taking Sammy every time he wanted some pie, and he was never going to leave Her alone in a bar again—and not having to keep track of his goddamn hair all the time.

Even now it was too long. He’d been ready for a cut by the time the curse had hit, and somehow over just one week of being unattended, Dean felt like he had a mane. When he rubbed a hand over his jaw he could feel stubble, and She hadn’t even left him a razor. Or scissors.

If fact, the room seemed to be mostly empty, save for a lot of books, some stray ritual materials on the floor, and the motel furniture. There wasn’t even food or beer, and the bed looked hardly slept in, and Dean had a feeling that all those books would have worn pages from Her attention.

He didn’t quite know what he’d expected, when they switched back. A warning would’ve been nice, or a heads up that he’d suddenly be transported to the middle of freakin’ nowhere. All he knew what that She’d spent the week somewhere rainy, with trees and a view of the ocean, crashing up in waves on the rocks. Somewhere where the motels had cabin-like furniture and a lot of photos of bird and moose.

This limited information told Dean that he was either on the upper East Coast, or the upper West Coast.

So if he called Sam and took a gamble, he had a fifty percent chance of getting rescued, along with an equal shot of being stranded even longer as Sammy fucked off in the wrong direction and Dean tried to work out where the hell She’d landed him.

But if Dean was here, She’d be back in the bunker with Sam. So, hopefully, She wouldn’t be so pissed that she’d just leave Dean to find his own way back.

Hopefully when Dean got back, She’d still be there.

He’d spent most of the week scowling at books and random points on the wall, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this. He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose Her.

And She did love him. She’d said she loved Dean, and she’d used the present tense, and there was still hope. He’d fix this. Dean had spent the whole week repeating to himself that he would fix this. He’d read a bunch on articles online, asked Sam what he did when Eileen was pissed—Sam had said Eileen never got that pissed at him, so Dean had thrown out all his lettuce—and tried to call Her over and over to fix this.

Dean had been worried She wasn’t getting his messages. He’d started to feel something heavy and sickening grow in his stomach, because She could have been in danger. Sam said She’d been emailing him about the curse, but maybe whoever had been hurting Her had gotten her laptop, and they’d been using the emails to throw Sam and Dean off the trail. Maybe She’d been waiting for Dean to come help Her, but he’d just been brooding so now she thought he didn’t care.

Her laptop was still open, and when Dean clicked on her inbox, his emails had been left unread. Her phone was on the bed, and he could still see all his messages on the notification screen. She hadn’t been in danger.

She’d just been ignoring him.

And he could feel his jaw clench—his hands fist and his brow draw—as anger began to settle in his muscles and throat, but he didn’t have the right to it.

Because Dean was pretty sure She thought he didn’t care.

About Her.

“She just needs space, dude.” Sam had looked up at him from across the war room table about a week ago, his voice dangerously close to a lecture tone. “She just found out you’ve been lying to her for years-“

“I lied for her.” Dean had snapped, glaring at his phone. “Why won’t she call me back-“

“Because as far as she’d concerned, you just lied. She doesn’t care that it was for her,” Sam had put quotation marks around those last words, and Dean had scowled. “She cares that you didn’t think about her at all-“

Dean head had snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy, of course I care about her-“

“I know that.” Sam hadn’t wavered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you tell me. But all you’ve done with her is make her feel confused and dumb-“

“She’s not dumb-“

“I fucking know that Dean! I’m trying to tell you how she feels-“

“I wouldn’t need you to tell me,” Dean’s words had been pushed through his teeth, and he’d been damn near ready to punch Sam in the face or smash his phone on the table. “If she’d pick up the phone.”

Sam had given Dean a long, odd look, and then shaken his head. “Whatever, man. Not the love of my life who’s gonna hate my guts.”

Dean had felt the blood leave his face. He’d felt his whole world shatter just a little, felt his heart fucking stop. Just go dead in his chest, because She didn’t hate him. She loved him. Dean had decided that he’d be fine not being able to touch Her or hold Her as close as he wanted, because at least She’d be safe, and She’d never hate him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look in the mirror and see anything but a rotten, cracked pile of trash if She hated him.

But he’d looked in the mirror that same night, and he’d seen Her. Awesome, smart, funny Her.

He’d never known what he’d done to trick someone so beautiful into loving him. Dean had been satisfied knowing that possibly, maybe, hopefully, he could’ve been good enough.

That even if he’d never get to have Her, he’d been good enough for Her to trust him, to let him hold Her heart in his hands and keep it safe, just as he’d built his own heart to sit on an alter that was made of Her. An alter that tended to and existed only for Her, that would shatter and cave if he ever became something horrible enough to make Her not want him-

Son of a bitch.

He’d gotten it.

He’d stared at Her reflection, and he’d felt it, in Her chest. Worked out why he’d spent every moment in Her body trailing after himself, and moving to his will, leaning into his own touch. Why his eyes kept scanning around rooms for something he didn’t understand, but would know when he found it. Why when he’d taken a shower and the smell of his shampoo had drifted through the steam, everything in his body—Her body—had relaxed.

She’d built Her own alter.

To Dean.

Of all fucking people, She really did love him in the way he’d always refused to hope for. He’d wanted—for Her sake and his own painful reparation—for Her love to be strong and real, but fleeting.

He’d prayed that She did love him, and She’d always like him, but it would pass and Dean wouldn’t have to spend his life forcing himself a few steps back from grabbing Her and fusing Her love into his ribs until he could really fucking feel it.

He hadn’t wanted to feel it. He’d wanted Her love to wither, so Dean could tend to his own selfish desire in peace, and She could be happy.

A piece of him had hated the idea of Her being happy without him. But that had been part of the sacrifice. Dean would have to break himself down until he learned how to stop getting jealous when Her attention drifted, when he figured out how to lie to himself about not caring if She settled safely with some boring douchebag in a way that stuck on his body.

He’d told himself that one day She’d start flirting at a bar, and his legs would forget to chase after Her because he really did want Her to be happy.

But now he could feel it. He had been able to feel the part of Her that moved and rolled and hummed only for Dean.

He’d started rehearsing his speech that night.

He had a whole thing ready. He’d tell Her she was right. He’d stay he was sorry, and that he’d make the same choice a million times to keep Her safe but he’d never be able to live with himself She thought he didn’t care. He’d say he cared. He’d say it over and over until She understood that Dean could be reduced to ash and sand, and he’d still care. He was just bad at it. He was just bad in general. But he loved Her, and that made him feel okay.

He’d practiced in his head when he was in Her body—using Her voice to apologize to Her had felt strange and wrong—and he spent the time while he waited for Sammy to arrive going over it in the mirror. She’d forgive him. He’d run the speech by Sam, and Sam had rolled his eyes and called Dean a loser and an idiot, but he’d said it would probably be fine.

It would be fine.

Sam said Dean would be picked up in a day, and he’d get to back Her, apologize, and everything would be fine.

He packed Her things as he waited, running over the speech one last time as he heard the rumble of Baby’s engine outside.

But when there was a knock at the door, it wasn’t Sam standing on the other side.

——————

It’s raining.

It fucking raining.

You’re standing outside in the rain, your hair clinging to you brow and your clothing stuck to your bone, and Dean’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost, and this is so dumb.

“Hi.” Your voice is flat and not as strong as you’d like, but you’d also been out here for a minute before he’d answered the door, and the cold is already sinking too deep into your skin.

“Uh,” Dean stares at you, a small line forming in his brow. “I thought you’d be Sam.”

“I’m not.” You raise your chin slightly, holding his gaze. “I’ve had enough of being someone else for a long, long time.”

“I- you- Uh,” he clears his throat, and there’s something shaken and slightly off in his gaze, something that makes him falter. “I’ve never been good at-“

“Am I allowed inside?”

Dean blinks at you, his brow fully drawing, and you roll your eyes.

“It’s raining, Dean.”

He frowns, scanning over the grass behind you and the pavement, and the sight of the mist and darkened concrete almost seems to shock him. He stands a little taller, almost stumbles back, and grabs your arm.

Yanking you right inside after him.

Forcing your body to fall right over his, keeping you there for a brief second as you regain your balance, and then just fucking moving away.

He’d been so warm. He hadn’t quite smelled right, but you’d smelled like him, and it had made up the difference. His strong, steady arm had wrapped around your back for a second, and then he’d left you standing in the center of the room as he shuffled away.

He’d left you standing alone.

Nothing had changed.

“I missed you.”

You glower at the air, turning to see that his voice had come from the bathroom. The door has been left ajar, and you can see him moving around inside, and you hate that you’re still listening. That it’s Dean’s voice—his real voice, with all that same gravity he always has and the deep sound almost a bass in your chest—so you’re clinging to it like it’s wood and you’ve been set adrift.

Dean set you adrift. He’s the one stranded you and threw you to the waves and lied. Then he’d always pulled you just close enough to the shore for you to foolishly believe he’d left you rest somewhere warm, and then he’d fucking left again.

“You missed me.” Your voice has a little more fire behind it, and you can feel it bubbling up in your neck and stomach. The explosion. “You fucking missed me?”

Dean’s head pokes through the door, and there’s a small frown on his face. “Of course I-“

“Did you really miss me? Or are you just saying that when you secretly want me gone?”

He flinches. Dean visibly recoils, like you’ve stabbed him, and you’d feel worse about that if he hadn’t broken your heart into pieces with the blunt end of a gun and then fused you back together a little more his than before. A little more devoted—because at least he’d cared enough to pay you any mind—and a little angrier.

Dean says your name slowly, you hold your hand up, and his mouth shuts closed in a second.

“We’re going to fight, Dean.” You let out a slow breath, scanning over his face. “We’re going to fight, and then I’m going to leave.”

His eyes widen, something wild and panicked flashing behind them. “You’re-“

“I’m leaving with you. Or without you. But I,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut because you can’t look at him. He looks wounded and smaller than he should be, and he can’t do that. Not now. “I need to know, now. I need to know why you lied, and why you just made me stay in love with you-“

“I didn’t mean to.” He mutters, and his voice is soft, and you still won’t look at him. “I didn’t- You had to be safe-“

“I was safe-“

“Yeah, you were. But you wouldn’t have been, with me.”

Something’s passed to your hands, and it’s soft and warm. You risk one eye open to stare at the fluffy towel in your hands, and Dean’s still talking.

“You woulda had a target, people with me and Sammy always get targets, and they always end up dead. And I-“ He chokes on something, and you’re staring at his knees. You still feel like you’re seeing too much. “I couldn’t lose you. I don’t- I won’t lose you. I needed to protect you, and I wanted you to be happy-“

You scoff, glowing at his thighs. “That’s a lie. You always stopped me from moving on-“

“I know-“

“You don’t know, Dean!” You’re shouting at his stomach, strangling the towel in your hands. “You have no idea how- It hurt! It hurt all the time that you’d say you didn’t love me, and then you’d turn around and tell me nobody was good enough for me, and I- I was confused, and lost, and lonely-“

He says your name, and you shake your head at his chest.

“No! I would’ve been safe! I’m always safe with you-“

Dean’s laugh is dry and humorless. “That’s not-“

“It is. You-“ You choke on the air, and the base of his neck tenses. “I don’t trust just anyone, Dean, and I trusted you with my life, I loved you-“

“Loved?”

You stare at him, and he’s never been so still. Like he thinks that if he even breathes a little too loud, you’ll bolt.

And he looks pained.

You can feel it. In your own chest there’s a phantom of something clenching at your heart, and there’s a wired tension in your muscles that you’d grown used to over the past week.

He’s shivering a little. It’s humid in the motel room, and he’s dry, but Dean’s shivering.

And it’s a little hard to breathe.

“Love.” You whisper. “I love you. But it hurts, Dean. It really fucking hurts.”

He bows his head, and only mutters, “I- I had to protect you-“

He keeps repeating that, like it’s a mantra or prayer. Like he can make it real, if he just says it over and over until the words are only sounds.

“You didn’t need to protect me Dean, and you know it.” You sigh, rubbing your neck with a hand as Dean seems to curl into himself. “You were just afraid.”

He flinches again. “I-“

“But you are not a coward, Dean Winchester.” You force your voice to be a little stronger, your spine moving to stand slightly taller as you watch him. “You are an asshole, and a masochist, and self-sacrificing dick, and the best man I know.”

He glances up at you, swallowing slightly, and you push on.

“You’re clever, and resilient, and loyal, and caring. You’d give your life in a second for anyone, and you’d give your happiness for the people you love because you are an idiot who can’t see how it kills us. I did not fall in love with you against my will. I am a smart woman, and I chose you.” You narrow your eyes at him, taking a firm step closer. You can feel something charged and bright moving between your bodies, and you don’t know if it starts in him or you, but it’s all the same. Right now, it’s only you and Dean in the whole world. “I chose you because you are brave, so stop being a coward and be fucking happy, Dean.”

“I-“

“Tell me you’ll be happy.”

Dean stares at you. “I- I’ll be happy.”

He frowns at the words, as if they taste odd on his tongue.

You’ll have to work on that.

You nod. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” He almost lurches forward, like he’s physically stopping himself from reaching out to hold you. “I’m so goddamn sorry, and I’m never gonna-“

“Tell me you love me. But,” You stand a little taller, and this could break you. “Only if you really fucking mean it-“

“I love you.” The words are fast. Firm.

They jumpstart your every nerve at once, and you’re going to be okay.

“I’m in love with you,” Dean says your name, his hands fisted at his side. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and I’ll be happy, and just- Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please. I love you, goddamnit, so don’t-“

“You can say it all you want.” You swallow, keeping your gaze locked on his. “I want to see you do something.”

There’s a long moment where he just stares at you, but there’s no sickening worry in your body. You didn’t push him too far, you said everything you had to, and Dean might be drawing ragged breathes you can feel tighten around your own lungs—might just be standing there and watching you—but if he does nothing at all you’ll know. You’ll finally know in a way that you can trust, and you’ll be able to walk away and relearn how to move and think in a world where Dean really doesn’t want you-

He moves so fast. One second Dean’s staring at you with a drawn brow and flared nostrils, and the next he’s on you. Bent over your body, his hands molded and perfectly fit on your waist and jaw, his lips slammed over yours and pulling every part of your soul out through your mouth.

And every bit of doubt evaporates without any suffering or pain.

Because Dean cares.

And you can feel it.

It’s not just in how he kisses you, like he’s returned from war and you’ve been a crumpled picture in his pocket, his kiss bruising and searching all at once, as every bit of his adoration and desire and hope—there’s something that’s still delicate in this kiss, because his hands stay on your body like you might be set adrift once more and he’s fighting against all the tides and rocks to keep you at his side—sinks from Dean’s lip into yours.

It’s in the lingering sensations you can still feel between your bodies. It’s in how when your arms wrap around Dean’s neck and you return the kiss with every bit of wrathful and determined love you’ve ever held for the man before you, you can feel the rush of relief in his body.

He pulls you closer, and groans against your skin when you squirm in his hold. Dean presses kisses over your collarbone and sucks a line up your neck that makes you fold into him like putty, and when you scratch at his arms a prickle runs over your own skin.

You think Dean’s feeling it too. He grabs at your hair and tugs it back to bite and kiss at your throat, and his own body jerks slightly. He falls over you on the mattress, and makes a low grunt that matches the weight of him that’s

been dropped on your chest. You reach a hand between your bodies as he nips at your lower lip—palming and squeezing at his bulge, feeling yourself melt into the sheets at his low groan—and when he swats you away he replaces the loss with his knee, his thighs tensing in that brief moment where you’re aching without relief.

Dean rises over you, and furrowed expression on his face.

“Got makin’ up to do.” He mutters, his eyes so dark on yours it feeds something in your gut that had been flickering and humming into an inferno. And you could get lost in that darkness. They’d be warm. “I just- I’m takin’ care of it, sweetheart. You need to trust me-“

You push up to kiss him, cupping your hand around his head and keeping it short and gentle.

“I trust you.” You whisper against his lips, running your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m staying. Just- I-“

You don’t have the words. For how if this is it, if he’s going to love you and hold you, he can’t drop you. You can’t do this just to be left stranded once more.

But you don’t need the words.

Because there’s still a little bit of you that is Dean, and he understands.

Dean lays you back on the bed, pulls his shirt over his head, and now you have nothing but time and care. His hands trace and map over your body as he strips you out of your wet clothing, and lingering cold from the rain vanishes as Dean starts to touch you.

Really, properly touch you.

Rough, calloused hands squeezing and pulling at your breasts and hot, full lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and pulling it between his teeth with low groans that vibrate through your body. By the time he’s trailing down your stomach—sucking dark marks all over your skin that make your back arch off the bed and your knees spread in a silent plea for him to move further down—you’re tugging at his hair and gasping his name in need.

Then Dean dives right past where you’re dripping and rolling the sheets for him, kissing down your thighs and up to your ankle, switching legs and keeping you pressed to the mattress with one firm hand.

You can see his own need, pushing against his jeans. You can feel it, throbbing and pulsing in your core.

“Dean,“ You moan as he nips at your knee, slowing working his way back up to your center. “Shit, Dean, please-“

His mouth moves to your inner thigh, sucking another, almost possessive spot right near your core before hiking your legs over his shoulders, his breath warm over you pussy and his mouth so close-

“Dean-“

“That’s my name, baby.” He hums. “Get ready to scream it.”

The asshole winks at you, and you barely have time to glare at him before he dives into your cunt, and everything in your body lights on fire.

It’s infuriating how everything Dean does, he’s good at. How even eating pussy feels like something artful when it’s Dean doing it, and he’s working you like clay with only his mouth. Turning you into a writhing, moaning mess on the bed as he licks and sucks and bites and kisses, and his scruff is just long enough to burn on your thighs in the best way, and his hands are drawing pattern on your thighs in perfect rhythm with his movement between your clit and clenching pussy, humming and growling against you in harmony and pushing his tongue into you right as your hips buck off the bed-

When you start to grind and moan a weak warning of your release—barreling towards you like a tidal wave—Dean keeps you on the edge with teeth on your clit and teasing movement of his tongue for just too long. Just until you’re whining and squirming and trying push your cunt right into his face, and then he pulls your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue over you in almost a frenzy, and you unravel.

You might be screaming his name. Your heart feels like it’s filled with helium and your body feels a little bigger as Dean presses one calming kiss over your clit and draws away—keeping at least one part of his body pressed to yours as he sheds the remainder of his clothes—and you think he might be proud.

You’ll let him have this. Just for tonight, when all he’s done is eaten you out and you feeling like you’re glowing, you’ll let Dean be pleased with himself.

He settles back over your body, his gaze locked to yours as he bumps against your inner thigh, and every breath feels important.

“I-“ Dean clears his throat, scanning over your face. “I, uh- You didn’t happen to bring protection-“

“I’m clean.” You whisper, your fingers curling on his chest. “And on the pill.”

He swallows, nodding slowly. “And you’re okay-“

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure-“

“Dean.” Your voice gets a little more solid, your eyes firm on his. “If you don’t want to, we won’t, but I’m more than-“

You yelp as Dean slams his mouth down to yours, kissing you into the mattress and swallowing your high sound as he pushes his cock right into you without resistance.

He pulls back to watch you as he bottoms out, reaching down to trace a small circle on your clit, and his hips jerk with a grunt.

The movement make him press right against your g-spot, Dean groans and rolls his hips, you whine and start to grind against him as your own pleasure crest and vaults, and you both freeze as you realize what’s happening.

Dean pressed his thumb flat on your clit, the movement slow and careful, and lets out a hiss through his teeth. Still staring at him, you purposefully clench around him, and stars cloud your vision as need pools deeper in your gut.

Something snaps.

And you’ve never been higher.

Every movement is doubled, and everything seems to only carry you higher. Dean begins to slam into you at a brutal pace that grows sloppier and sloppier the more you grind and writhing beneath him, squeezing his cock whenever he hits that spongey, needy part deep inside of you, the feeling of practical euphoria doubled and practically intoxicating.

At some point Dean rolls onto his back, never removing himself inside of you and never breaking his pace. Your nails scratch at his chest as you ride his dick, rubbing your clit over his chest and reaching a hand behind you to play with his balls as he guides you up and down with a tight grip on your hips-

Dean almost roars when you squeeze his balls with light fingers, and you would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t hold you up. One of Dean’s thumbs move to furiously rub at your clit, and you’re not sure who cums first.

All you know is that it’s all an almost infinite high as you fuck yourself on his cock through your orgasm, and Dean pushes up to suck at your tits as his release drips down your thighs.

You could’ve stayed here forever. Basking in the little, electric aftershocks of your shared orgasm, squeezing around Dean when he twitches inside of each other, watching each other with open looks of wonder because you might have just found a backdoor to heaven.

But eventually, Dean has to roll you onto your back press a kiss to your brow before shuffling to the bathroom. He returns with a wet washcloth that gets tossed to a corner of the room once he’s cleaned you up, and wastes no time settling his body back over yours with a low groan.

“Sammy’s gonna have a field day.” He mutters against your skin, and you giggle, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Been telling me for years to just talk to you.”

You hum. “You should’ve listened. Sam can be wise beyond his years sometimes.”

He snorts. “You’re supposed to be on my side-“

“I am.” You tilt your head to kiss his cheek, smiling against his scruff. “Just not for this.”

“Whatever.” Dean grumbles, and he’s clinging to you like you’re a teddy bear. “Long as he shuts his big mouth about it-“

“We could make out in the war room. When we get home. Just to fuck with him.”

There’s a long pause, and when Dean speaks again, he sounds a little breathless. You feel a little lightheaded.

“You’re my dream girl.”

“I know.” You smile at the ceiling. “Dean, can you still feel-“

“Yeah.” He pinches at your waist, as if testing that the aftereffects are still there. “Kinda hot, though.”

“You wanna keep making it up to me?” You hold his gaze as he pushes up on his elbows, raising his brows at you. “Sam doesn’t know where we are, you still have about four years of missed sex to catch up on, and it is storming outside-“

Dean grunts your name, and you give him your best innocent pout.

“You forgive me?”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I’d like a few more apologies, please.”

He raises his brows. “Am I ever gonna get to stop apologizing-“

“No.” You offer him a small smile. “But mostly just because your apologies are amazing.”

Dean rolls his eyes, you open your mouth to tell him that you have forgiven him—so if he really doesn’t want to keep having sex, he by no means has to—but you don’t have to.

He knows.

And based on the fervor with which he kisses you back into the mattress, he wants nothing more than to try and fuck you until you’re turned inside out, and he’s gotten that lingering bit of the curse inside of him to stick.

End Note: Rare Dean Winchester dealing with emotions, spotted in the wild! Thank you so much for reading!! Shoutout to the anon who requested a body swap series, huge W for that idea <3, this one's for you.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf @fullbelieverheart @wowzabowza69 @bonbonnie88

@pillowjj @barnes70stark @kamisobsessed @happyfxckinghorrors @deans-yn

@jofinka @allthetroubleiveseen

@dyhsversion @Laurakirsten0502 @megara0224 @funkenniffler @disappearintofanfiction

@kr804573

331 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 5 months ago

Text

??? Raid

Yan Demon Hivemind Drabble

"Boxers...."

"Or Briefs?"

"Have we already discussed the possibility of panties?"

"...Oh, oh!...What's the name of that other cut we learned of? Quite popular with single guests. A..... th...ong - as the humans say?"

The collective pondering of one mind spliced between four individual mouths. Pardoned from their routinely duties for break as per the agreements of their contract, the Aces' unionized psyche in no way ceases when there is no labor left to be done. Granted their freedom, the demons waste zero time refocusing their endeavors on matters important to themselves as a whole.

In present times, there has been but one soul able to obtain their undivided attention. A human guest no different from the rest at first glance, yet every encounter the Aces share with them leaves them yearning to peal back the layers of their new obsessions inner self.

"Boxers are a more traditional wear..." The first Ace firmly states, tapping a finger to the blank corner of their mask where their chin would be. "Full coverage, doesn't form to the figure well.. Almost like they have something to hide. Our human is a mystery person, aren't they?"

"Yes, Yes!- Although, I believe panties fall in the same category." The next continues, the cherries in their voice garbled by the clunky gas masked attached to their face. "A common choice, however they contort to the shape of the body better than boxers.. Perhaps a sign of comfort in their own skin?"

"That's a beautiful way to put it, Ace... Hate to sour it, but wouldn't something breathable and lacey like a thong show more confidence?" The meekest of the group points out - hands cupped over the painted eyes of their mask in shame. "Could also be signs of a flirtatious spirit. You've seen the way they've smiled at us."

"Honestly, does the type even matter?" The rabbit eared demon chirps - speaking the truths others in their group tend to ignore. "Regardless, what we really want to know is if they wouldn't mind us "borrowing" a pair. Besides, we all know color is the real decider of their personality."

"That's it."

All eyes and eyes turn to the blank-faced Ace as their fist connects with the center of their palm.

"The only way we'll ever find out without them thinking we're perverse is to preform a panty raid."

"Genius idea, Ace!" Rabbit exclaims, hopping to their feet - arm interlocked with the timid demon to their right.

"Do we still consider it a panty raid when we aren't sure what we're searching for?" Clown squeaks as they're dragged from their seat.

"An underwear raid, then?" Gas mask politely proposes, linking their arm to Clown's free elbow as they rise from their spot on the bench.

"Underwear Raid..."

A chant, a chorus stemming from the solitary uttering of the hivemind's newest goal.

"Underwear Raid, Underwear Raid, Underwear Raid-"

The group merrily carols their recitation all throughout the halls of the casino on their committed path to your suite. Pass the buffet, awaiting the elevator, reaching the top floor where prestigious guests were booked. A show in the main auditorium on the flirt floor bestowed enough leeway for them to get the job done undetected.

"Alright, Aces- Let's get too work!"

Minutes tick away as the demons disburse, each taking a separate corner of your room to search. Rabbit darts for the nightstand beside your bed, meanwhile Clown yelps at the sight of their reflection in the bathroom mirror as they enter the smaller space. Blank calmly sorts through the drawers of your dresser as Gas Mask heads for the closet, both leaving every article of clothing they touch exact as they found them.

"No boxers..." Rabbit announces beneath the confines of your bed, audibly dejected.

"No panties." Gas Mask declares, shutting the doors inch by inch - closing them without so much as a click.

"No thong...." Clown mournfully weeps, the wetness in their eyes felt by the three remaining demons in the room.

"Nothing here either." Blank remarks, admitting defeat with the slam of the dresser drawer - though all is not loss. "If they have no underwear at all then maybe...."

"Possibly..."

"Could it be?..."

"Our human...."

"Wears nothing at all?!?!"

#Devil casino #The Aces #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere demon #yandere drabble #yandere x reader

326 notes · View notes

keypaa · 1 year ago

Text

Astrology Observations No.5 🧛🏻‍♀️💋🖤👻

(+ a bit creepy stuff)

I use the whole sign system

Uranus opposition Ascendant & strangers talking to you all of a sudden in unexpected ways and places

Mars in 8th house get attacked by spirits often (sleep paralysis, seeing shadows, feeling presences) in many places you go to

!Sensitive topic¡

Astroid Medusa (149) in strong aspects (usually squares) with the north node/southnode + pluto indicate r*pe. I saw it in two of my friends chart. The north node can be seen as destiny. Even if you don't have this aspect and still went through this i love you you are never alone ❣︎

Scorpio ascendants attract a whole bunch of creeps trust your gut and keep it safe people always pay attention to what you are doing you just need to look closer

Lilith in the 10th house and females being annoyed of their presence in the work place. Usually also attract a whole bunch of jealousy in school, uni or at work. Michele Avil that was murdered by her best friend because of jealousy had this placement

Moon in Scorpio hate not having control they know how to (atleast try) to get someone to do something. Positive note good investigators who would make great psychologists, detectives and so on

So well if you have a bunch of 1st house, 8th house or 12th house placements in planets like venus, mars, moon or lilith you are more prone to attract stalkers atleast once in your life KEEP IT SAFE and I mean it¡! And by stalkers I also mean people who do a whole bunch of research on you and your life or keep following you obsessively on social media.

Don't leak unnecessary information about you and try to not go to quite places alone where no one could find you if something would happen.

Lilith in leo are feared by females loved by men

Venus in 10th house don't tell anyone about your love life trust me even tho people always find things to say and spread rumors about. You will publicly be known for what is happening in your love life.

Moon in aries need to be feared, if introverted it takes long to see their anger but most aries moons show ther anger explosively nevertheless they cool down rather quickly, loyal to their loved ones tho

Don't fuxk with leo venus friends they take care of them like a lion mother, dedicated

Venus in capricorn always have enemys

Masculines with libra placements always fall for people who don't love them the same way/or for absolutely toxic & crazzzy people

Lilith in the 22nd degree are necrophilists. Just look at Richard Ramirez chart, he loved s*x with the dead.

According to Ian Altosaar the 22nd degree is about murder and I combined this information with liliths nature, hidden desire. 👻Ps: Most necrophilists are men not always but almost all the time https://ijop.net/index.php/mlu/article/download/734/688/1339 or on Wikipedia (not so reliable source but says that about 92% are men)

Virgo placements get underratedly sexualised a whole lot. The biggest p*rn star right now has virgo placements. Also virgo liliths can be se*ualised

Pisces moons had a time of their life where they cried a lot or still are very emotional (nothing bad). Other than that they can be dangerously manipulative if they want to and feel every slight difference in someones behavior

Aquarius ascendants and loving colorful clothing

Juno (3) in aries and rooting for ambitious people that behave masculine in a loving manner (romantically)

Juno (3) in aquarius want a partner that sticks out from the masses

Mercury in sagittarius have a special voice

Pholus (astroid) shows you what transformed you the most in your life:

1st hous/Aries: You yourself/sports caused a transformation in your life

2st house/Taurus: Your financial situation changed you

3rd house/Gemini: The area where you live in (hood) affected you, or off topic your car/drivers license

4rd house/Cancer: Your home life, emotions or femininity

5th house/Leo: Creative skills of yours or recognition transformed you

6th house/Virgo: Routine or your health/hygiene plays/played a crucial role in your life

7th house/Libra: Your love life/ or glow up affected your life view

8th house/Scorpio: Deaths, paranormal stuff, operations, accidents and your sexuality transformed your way of dealing with life

9th house/ Saggitarius: Other cultures, traveling and your ancestors trigger something in you

10th house/Capricorn: Your work, work environment and accomplishments changed you

11th house/Aquarius: Humanitarian topics, technology and friends started your transformation journey

12th house/Pisces: Religion, spirituality & plastic surgerys may have affected your journey of developing your sense of self

Luvvv muah

3:18 PM

555

1K notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

what the heart wants + one

authors note: here we are again with another au. this one, however, is a hot ass mess. i condone none of this shit.

also, this particular au will be told through a set of interconnected, non-chronological oneshots.

warnings: angst, some minor smut, and a shit ton of mess

words: 6k

suggested listening: 'a drop in the ocean' by ron pope

There have to be over a hundred different ways Solana predicted her life would turn out. Almost all of them ended with letters after her name, a white coat and stethoscope around her neck, and a set of children and husband in a cozy, white picket fenced house somewhere in the suburbs.

Such a traditional, stereotypical, happy ending of sorts. But, it’s an ending she settled on being hers.

If only things ended up that way, because nothing about her current situation is anywhere near the path to that standard domesticity.

Solana’s hand naturally falls to her stomach, pushing past the fluffy material of the dress. Material that hides the secret she’s been sitting on for almost two months now. A secret that stands to ruin, quite literally, everything.

“Solana!”

The woman in question jumps and quickly removes her hand, focused now on the icy glare of her older sister. A stark contrast to her cruel expression is the natural beauty Samantha “Sam” Miller has always possessed. Her makeup is light, as anything heavier takes away from her natural beauty. Her dark, long, loose curls cascade down her back and complement her practically perfect complexion. The white, bodycon type dress hugs her curves in all the right ways and highlights the toned planes of her body, including a flat stomach.

She looks perfect.

She always has though.

That’s always been part of the problem, because how could Solana ever compete with that?

“Sorry,” Solana mumbles, nervously fiddling with the side of her dress. “What—”

“Why aren’t you wearing the dress I picked for you?”

Solana tenses. Another issue she’s been avoiding that ties back to the biggest issue she’s avoiding.

The answer, as rehearsed, is simple. “It—it doesn’t fit anymore.” Not an entire lie. The dress Samantha selected for her bridal party to wear at the wedding rehearsal was always a bit snug. Still is. The difference now, however, is that it’s even more snug in the stomach area, the same area Solana needs to keep cloaked as if her life depended on it.

And in some ways, it does.

Samantha’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean it doesn’t fit anymore?” She scoffs, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “Oh my God, I knew you were getting fatter.” Solana would have more of a reaction if not for the fact that she’s used to these kinds of comments. She’s heard them her whole life from her sister. “Jesus, can’t you do a crash diet or something? It’s not fair that I—”

“Samantha, what’s wrong?”

Nina’s smooth voice enters the conversation. Both sets of eyes fall on the woman with a grace and beauty about her both physically and non-physically. Nina Miller’s presence is usually felt before she enters a room. She truly is someone who commands the attention of all nearby, including that of a now embarrassed Solana.

“Mom, your fatass daughter can’t fit the damn dress I picked for her to wear tonight, so she’s got….this on instead.”

Again, Sam’s words don’t really do much to Solana. Nina’s almost disappointed expression almost does though.

“Solana.” She gives a faux smile that doesn’t reach her warm eyes. “Honey, you know how important this night is for your sister. You should have been mindful of your food intake these past few months.”

“More like her whole life.”

As always, Nina ignores the cruelty extended from one child to another. Her judgmental gaze takes in Solana’s alternative outfit. “It doesn’t look awful, but it does make you look bigger.” She reaches a hand and places it on Solana’s shoulder. “I’ll send you over some articles for a few diets that might be good for you.”

Solana still says nothing. This also wouldn’t be the first time her mother has tried to help her with her “weight” problem.

After all, as Nina has said multiple times, “no one’s going to want a fat person for their doctor, Solana.”

“Sam.”

Another voice. One that makes the hairs on the back of Solana’s neck stand up, that has her wishing for quite literally anything to happen that will cause the earth to swallow her whole or somehow grant her invisibility.

He stands behind Nina and Sam, her sister’s height partially obscuring her view of him, but most definitely not his view of her.

And the minute his penetrating gaze falls on her, Solana knows she needs to make herself scarce.

“Roman.” Her mother’s sickeningly sweet address of the man Solana should technically also address, as per protocol, is just more fodder for the youngest Miller girl to try to quietly make her escape.

If not for her damn sister.

Solana tenses when Sam reaches and grabs her arm. Their eyes lock, and Sam glares, “did you acknowledge him?”

Did you?

It takes a lot for her to keep that snarky comeback locked within the confines of her head. A wise decision, as she knows the rock on Sam’s left finger is all the acknowledgement she needs to give.

Just the thought of it has her chest hurting. A pain that intensifies as Solana forces her gaze to lift to Roman’s. His eyes are piercing into her, questioning, inquisitive, curious, wanting.

There’s a heaviness in the back of her throat as she forces out in a leveled but low voice. “My Tribal Chief.” And just like that, before he can offer any sort of response, Solana is turning to leave, desperate to put as much distance between herself and him as possible.

But, as have been most things in her life in the past couple of months, the universe has something else in mind.

Because Solana is halfway down the hall of the church, a partial view of the restroom signs in her line of vision when she hears someone call after her.

Another familiar, unwanted interruption.

She starts to ignore him, actually does so as she continues walking, only for him to catch up to her, grabbing her arm and moving in front of her.

“Solana.”

She closes her eyes, unable to handle the almost pleading expression on his face. Swallowing, she addresses him, “Jey.”

It’s clearly not the kind of address he was looking for, but he leaves it alone. “How you doing?”

A stupid ass question, one that has her scoffing as she asks, still not looking at him, even as he drops his hand from her. “What do you want, Jey?”

“I been calling and texting you.”

“What do you want?”

There is full recognition of her rudeness in this moment. Solana knows this, and she also knows that it’s not entirely directed toward the man before her. Knows that, if anything, he’s the one who should be upset with her.

And the minute she finally allows herself to look at him, she sees that warranted frustration.

“What’s your problem?” Another fair question with a loaded, layer answer not appropriate for this setting. “Trying to check on you. Trying to check on the bab—”

“We’re fine,” is her clipped answer. She hugs herself, trying to move past him. He stops her, however, prompting her to plead, “Jey, please—”

“Why you acting this way? Huh?”

She closes her eyes again. “I’m not acting any kind—”

“Bullshit.” An appropriate callout, but one that has her eyes watering again. “I don’t get it. One minute you was all over me, now I can barely get you to fucking look at me.” And she still doesn’t, not until the next thing that leaves his mouth practically forces her to. “At least, I’m trying to be involved. Trying to step up. What the fuck has Roman done?”

That’s when she finally meets his pointed gaze. Swallowing, she warns, “don’t.”

“Why?” Jey is clearly unwilling to back down. Unsurprising. He has more in common with his cousin than he’d probably like to admit. “Man, when you gon’ get over him? He’s marrying your sister. Even if it is his—”

“Then, it’s none of your business,” Solana pushes back, once again trying to leave only for Jey to continue to block her. “Mo—”

“But, if it isn’t, then it is my business.”

And that brings about an uncomfortable truth that Solana is not fully ready to admit out loud. Not even in the slightest, because she shouldn’t want either of them to be the one. Jey is, in many ways, the best outcome.

If only he was the one she wanted.

“Be honest with me, Solana.” His voice does an almost 180 from the previous irritated tone, shifting into something also solemn and vulnerable. “Was any of it ever real?” Another question she wasn’t expecting, just like any of this. “Did you ever actually give a fuck about me or were you just using me to get over him?”

Solana swallows. “Jey, I never—”

“Answer the damn question, Solana!”

“Hey!”

Another new voice enters. One Solana is actually grateful to hear.

Vai marches over to them, shoving on Jey, forcing him to move out of Solana’s way. “Leave her alone, Jey.”

He looks down at his cousin with an almost sneer. “Aye. This don’t involve you, Vai.”

Vai, however, has never and will ever be that person to back down. “The hell it doesn’t! You all only know her because of me.” A true statement that could either be a good or bad thing, depending on the perspective. “Come on, Sola.”

Solana is grateful and keeps her head down as Vai ushers them past a still watching Jey. But, it’s only when they’re in the privacy of the restrooms that Solana finally cracks.

She cries into her hands, overwhelmed and overcome with the heaviness of it all.

“Oh, Sola….” Vai comes up to her, engulfing her in a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Solana cries into her, clutching her almost. “I—I messed up.”

“Solana, this isn’t all your fault. My dumbass brother and cousin played a role in this as well.”

“But, I should have known better,” Solana argues, placing the bulk of the responsibility on herself. “I—I knew it was wrong.”

“So did they.” Vai has never been unafraid to call a spade a spade. Someone who agrees with holding all parties responsible. It’s partially why Solana values their friendship so much, because just as Vai can be a hot ass mess on any given day that ends in ‘Y,’ she’s always been in Solana’s corner, ready to support and go to war for her.

In many ways, a better “sister” than Sam has ever been.

“Look.” Vai steps back and wipes away some of Solana’s tears. “I know it’s a lot, but we just have to make it through the next couple of days, and then we’re out of here for a month, so you can clear your head and get away from this all.”

And it’s in a set of back to back interactions that Solana completely forgot that while the next few days are bound to be some of the hardest of her life, going to spend a month in Mexico with her best friend and abuela is truly bound to be the kind of escape she needs.

Because Vai is most definitely right when she says that Solana needs to get away from all of this.

From them.

Blowing out a breath, she shakes her head. “You’re—you’re right.”

Vai rolls her eyes. “Of course, I’m right.” She gives a playful smirk, lightly nudging the other woman. “You may be the smart one, but I have my moments, too.”

A light, bitter chuckle. “I don’t know too much about smart anymore.”

Vai gasps. “No way. No way will I let the smartest, prettiest, finest girl I know talk down to herself.” She points to the mirror, ordering, “assume the position.”

Solana sighs. ‘Vai, no—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Vai objects, starting to push Solana in the direction of the wall of mirrors. “Come on.” Solana gasps when Vai’s hand comes down on her ass. “Get to it.”

“Vai—”

“Fine,” she relents, pulling out her phone from the small Chanel bag on her shoulder. Tapping on the screen, Solana rolls her eyes as the music fills the bathroom.

I am healthy, I am wealthy

I am rich, I am that bitch (Yeah)

I am gonna go get that bag

And I am not gonna take your shit (Uh)

“Vai!” Solana giggles when Vai climbs up on the counter and starts twerking, rapping along with Baby Tate. “You are so bad! We’re in a church.”

“I can’t hear you,” she ignores Solana’s protest, moving off the counter to grab her phone, opening up Snapchat to record them. Her influence pays off as she dances on Solana, eventually peer pressuring her best friend since elementary school in joining her for the singing.

It’s a silly little thing that truly lifts Solana’s spirits. Helping her feel a little more hopeful and a lot less helpless.

—--------

It’s painful.

All of it. For a variety of reasons. The biggest and most impactful of which largely due to the 6’3 man who makes intermittent eye contact with her throughout the entire evening. Even as her sister walks down the aisle during the ceremony rehearsal, Solana can feel his gaze on her instead of his bride to be.

And, it takes everything in her to not run off, simply rub at her eyes to avoid anyone from finding out her tears are far from the happy ones shed by her mother at the thought of this all being finalized in just a few days.

The thought alone makes Solana sick to her stomach.

Just like any time she catches a glimpse of Sam holding onto Roman’s arm, laughing unnecessarily loud as they interact with other attendees. More her than Roman. Solana knows better than anyone how he’d much rather be anywhere other than here.

She knows, because she feels the same.

And because there’s nothing more truly mind fucking than seeing her sister harp on and fawn over a man who just this morning was in Solana’s bed, fucking her, whispering all the sweet, sinful things that should be reserved for his fiancé.

Not his fiancé's little sister.

But, as already stated, the whole situation is just fucked up.

And it somehow becomes significantly worse during the rehearsal dinner.

They’re in the midst of toasts, Solana’s parents standing to offer their insincere words of support for the marriage. Insincere because they truly only care about the wealth and status that will be afforded to the family once Samantha becomes not only a Reigns, but thee Reigns.

The wife of the Tribal Chief.

Just thinking it makes Solana sick to her stomach.

Not as sick, however, as she feels the minute Jey literally stumbles into the dining room. His eyes are glazed, a silly look on his face, bottle of Hennessy in one hand, mic in the other.

And just like that, Solana knows shit is about to go from bad to inconceivably worse.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he starts off with a sly smile. “I heard—I heard we wishing good luck to the happy couple, right?”

The worry spreads across the room, including Vai who sits beside Solana wearing a trepidatious expression. “Oh no….”

Oh no is exactly what it is.

“Look, congratulations, Big Dog. Got you a bad one. Samantha fucking Miller. Fine ass been fine like goddamn.” For some reason, Solana finds her gaze falling on Roman who sits there, unlike almost everyone else, unworried and clearly pissed off.

Jey is in the middle of the room, brows furrowing. “I just got a question though.” He then points between Roman and Samantha with the clearly empty bottle. “How you gon be married to her—” the bottle shifts to Solana. “—when you fucking her?” He laughs to himself, as Solana feels her soul slip away from her. “Matter of fact, how you gon be married to her when you done knocked up her sister?”

Never in Solana’s 26 years has she been so mortified to have so many sets of eyes on her, all presenting with the same level of shock and disgust.

As if knowing she’s seconds away from panicking and causing an even bigger scene than what’s occurring, Vai reaches to grab and gently squeeze Solana’s hand.

If only that did any fucking thing.

“Wait, shit, my bad. It might not even be your baby, cause she been fucking the both of us!” Eyes shutting, heart crumbling, Solana has never felt so low. “So hell, maybe I’m the daddy!”

“But, hey, look! Solana!” Jey continues to talk, even as Jimmy and Solo are attempting to get the mic from him. “I got a surprise, too! Guess who also pregnant?” He tosses the bottle to the ground, shattering it, causing a group of the guests to gasp. “Nicki!” Breathing isn’t something Solana is certain she’s even capable of anymore, as an inebriated Jey continues to twist the knife. “So not only is my wife pregnant, but my side bitch might be carrying my baby too—”

Roman seems to come out of fucking nowhere, tackling Jey to the ground, immediately beating on him. And from there, even more chaos, security and other family members attempting to pry the cousins apart. Guests looking around and at the scene before them with all the bewilderment.

“You fucking whore!��

That’s all Solana hears before she’s grabbed by her hair and dragged out of her seat, thrown to the ground. There’s only seconds between Samantha going to kick her and Vai jumping out of her seat, tackling Samantha, effectively keeping her away from her intended target.

“I wish you fucking would touch her, you bony ass cunt!”

And because Vai is an actual Reigns, the baby sister of the Tribal chief, the princess of the Bloodline, security is by her in seconds, ready to defend if need be.

Meanwhile, Nina and Xavier are rushing by to check on Samantha, helping her to her feet, Nina’s horrified gaze on her youngest daughter. “Solana. Tell me….tell me it’s not true.”

Xavier’s gaze is less judgmental, almost sympathetic. “Sweetheart….”

Solana can only cry, struggling to get back to her feet, ignoring the brawling around her. It’s not nearly as heavy as the scene before her. “Daddy, I—”

“Of course, it’s true!” Samantha shouts, Nina having to restrain her daughter. “That’s why she’s gotten so fat! She’s pregnant!”

“Samantha, please,” Xavier sighs, running a hand over his face. Vai moves to help Solana stand, hand on the small of her back. “Solana Miller, don’t lie to us. Is this….is this true? Are you…..are you…..are you really pregnant with—with Roman’s child?”

In all the ways this unfortunate set of news could have been broken, for it to be laid out so publicly and brutally, it’s something she would have never foreseen.

Ever.

And with all the regret—and embarrassment—in the world, Solana answers, “I don’t—” She closes her eyes, never in her life feeling so much shame. “I don’t know if he’s the the father—”

“Oh my God,” is all Nina can say, hands covering her mouth, thus freeing Samantha who goes to swing for Solana once more. Vai, however, is having none of it. She jumps in front of her best friend without an ounce of hesitation.

“Hit me, bitch! Let me see you do it!” She challenges, knowing full and well, even with her rage, Samantha isn’t stupid enough to try anything. Not with a slew of security ready to make the upcoming wedding a funeral real fast.

If there even still is a wedding.

“How could you do this to us?” Nina demands, anger overpowering shock. “To your sister?” Solana would give anything to not exist in this moment. Anything at all. “What kind of whore have you become?”

“Nina,” Xavier says in an almost quiet voice. Solana would appreciate the almost sign of defense if not for his next question. “Why have you not terminated it?”

It’s a question Solana isn’t entirely surprised by, but it’s the way he asks, the fact that he’s asking now, even as the crowd has started to disperse, security directing people near the exits, that stuns her.

“I don’t—”

Samantha scoffs, eyes wide. “You’re not keeping that thing!”

“Samantha. Calm down.”

Xavier’s words seem to do the complete opposite. “Calm down? This whore fucked my fiance! And now she’s potentially carrying his baby, and you want me to calm down?”

“Yes, because if you don’t, I’m about to beat the shit out of you,” Vai cuts in, unafraid to be the mouthpiece Solana clearly needs at this moment. She looks toward Xavier and Nina. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Vai,” Nina’s objection is cold and her stare is icy. “This is a family matter.”

“Solana is basically my family, and the baby she’s carrying is either my niece, nephew, or my little cousin, so yes, it absolutely does concern me.”

Vai reaches for Solana’s hand, making one final statement. “Another time.”

And without giving anyone a chance to beat down more on Solana than she was already beating on herself, Vai guides them out of the place, just as Solana catches Roman’s intense eyes burning into her as he moves in their direction.

It only makes Solana walk away faster.

—-----

There aren’t words accurate and applicable enough to describe just what emotions are coursing through Solana’s body. Not as she empties her stomach over the toilet, only partially due to morning sickness. Not as she cries into her best friend’s chest, Vai doing her best to offer words of support and comfort. And certainly not as Solana takes in the gravity of what just occurred.

Not only has her pregnancy been outed in front of everyone, but to make matters worse, she’s completely humiliated her family.

Samantha’s dislike of her was already magnanimous. Now, her hatred will be unfathomable.

And her parents…..

God, Solana will never be able to wipe away the memory of their disappointment as they looked at her. They were already on shaky terms following her taking a year off from medical school, something that was met with disagreement and judgment. But this?

This is an entirely different ballpark. One that she doesn’t know how to navigate her way out of.

So, she’ll do the only thing she can in such a situation.

She’ll run.

Solana was already planning to leave, to go stay with her grandmother for a month after the wedding. But now….

Now, even if there is still a wedding, there’s no way in hell she can attend. That she’s even still invited.

Samantha would soon rather kill her than see her present on that big day.

And because Vai truly is the guardian angel Solana was blessed with, she agreed to accompany Solana on the trip that's now been moved up, citing she’d rather be chewed alive by a pack of rabid dogs than sit there and watch “that bitch and my brother exchange vows.”

A sentiment that Solana partially shares, as she’s been doing her best to prepare herself mentally for that sight.

Just the thought of it has her eyes watering yet again as she folds another dress and packs it into her suitcase.

The silence of the apartment doesn’t help the bombardment of thoughts in her head. So many racing thoughts that have her wishing she hadn’t told Vai she’d be okay until morning where they would board one of the Reigns’ private jets and head to Mexico.

And while a welcomed escape, it’s not her preferred destination.

No, given what’s occurred, Solana would prefer to head to Georgia. To spend time away from it all with Trick, her older half brother, his wife, Ashanti, and Solana’s “aunt” Melody, Trick’s biological mother. The woman who’s been more supportive and loving than Solana’s own biological mother at points.

She knows she’d find nothing but support from the older woman. And would from her brother as well, who’s always been there for her, if not for the fact that Jey is one of his good friends, and thus this situation would potentially put a wall between them.

But, even more, Trick and Roman hate each other, and Solana would not be surprised if her brother literally tried to kill Roman.

So yet, another mess that this situation has created. Not only has she messed up a marriage before it began, potentially ruined an almost lifelong friendship, heightened a decades long feud but also interfered with an actual marriage.

Because Nicki, Jey’s wife, being pregnant is something she could have never seen coming. He told her they were separated, that he was finally done with her. And Solana believed him.

The same way he believed her when she told him she was done wanting Roman, even if she was lying through her teeth and knew it at the moment. Was just too weak to be honest with him.

And herself, to some extent.

Additional tears fall freely as Solana moves to her dresser to pull out more clothes when she hears the doorbell. A glance at the clock on her nightstand reveals it’s almost 11pm. Too late for any visitors. If this was an average day.

But today was far from average.

Solana heads out of her room and to the front door where she leans up to look out the peephole, instantly regretting it.

Feet flat on the ground, eyes closed, her first instinct is to ignore him. To leave him outside for however long it takes for him to go away.

But, she also knows him. Knows that he’d kick the damn door down if that was what it took to see her.

It’s why, against her better judgment, for the second time today, she lets him in.

And as soon as she unlocks and opens the door, she brings her eyes to where he stands before her, expression filled with concern, no sign of him being involved in such a violent scuffle earlier.

That means Jey got the short of the stick.

Yet again.

“What are you doing here?” Solana redirects her attention and focuses on the door instead of the intense way he’s looking at her.

His answer is instant. “I needed to check on you.”

It’s the needed that makes her chuckle bitterly. “Just leave, Roman.”

“No.” An expected answer. As long as she’s known him, Roman has never responded well with being told what to do. “Not until I’m sure you’re alright.”

And, it’s that infuriating alright that makes her snap her focus back on him. “Alright?” Just saying it leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. “Roman, nothing about what has happened is alright.”

He swallows. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” she counters, the emotion building back up. “Because it wasn’t you who was humiliated tonight in front of everyone, Roman. It was me.”

His expression hardens just slightly. “This shit involves me too, Solana.”

Her grip on the door tightens as she lays out for him the double standards he seems to not understand. “Roman. You’re the man who’ll get props for fucking sisters. I’m the whore who doesn’t even know who the father of her baby is.”

His eyes shift from irritated to something almost soft at the ending part of her sentence. “It’s my baby, Sol.”

She feels such a mixture of frustration and appreciation for that one sentence. “You don’t know that, Roman. You shouldn’t want that.” Even if she also wants that. Doesn’t matter. It’s wrong. “This whole situation is so messed up, and the fact that you don’t see it just shows how unaffected you are by it all.”

“How the hell am I not affected by this, Solana?” His anger is rising, the two somehow moving from by the door to the interior of her apartment, near the living room. “Am I not in the middle of this, too?”

She scoffs, throwing her hands up and pointing at him. “You know what, you’re right, you are in the middle, because you started all of this!”

He pauses. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Solana presses her fingers to her temples, expressing aloud, “God, I wish you just left me alone.” And to emphasize the accountability on both parts, she admits, “I should have left you alone.”

A brief moment of silence followed up with a quiet, “you don’t mean that.”

“Of course, I mean it!” She shouts, gesturing around the room. “Roman, look at what’s happened. Nothing good has come out of this. My sister, who already hated me, is never going to forgive me. My parents have threatened to disown me if I keep this baby.” Just recalling the long, ultimatum of a text message she received has the tears brewing again. ‘That’s why—why I can’t.”

Roman’s shoulders drop. “Can't what?”

And for the first time since being backed into decision-making corner, Solana says aloud, “I’ve decided to put the baby up for adoption.”

Silence

It’s the longest bout of it that’s existed between herself and the man before her.

Shaking his head, Roman takes a step toward her, voice low but firm, “Solana, you��.you can’t do that.”

Backing away and wiping at her wet eyes, she affirms, “yes, I can, and I will.”

It seems her answer triggers another set of anger for him. “The hell, you can.”

Looking away, Solana finds herself sharing some of the things she had to consider when coming to this decision. “Roman, what kind of life would this baby have?” An honest, fair question she’s asked herself since finding out she was pregnant. An answer she’s finally come to after the events of tonight. “If it’s yours, he or she will just be the shunned bastard child of the Tribal Chief with a step mother who would never accept them.” She crosses her arms, playing out the alternative. “And even if it’s Jey’s, he or she isn't much better off dealing with Nicki as a step-mother.” A sure shitfest of a situation, given everything she knows about Jey’s wife. “It’s wrong to bring a child into this mess!”

Roman, as always, shows no signs of backing down, matching her volume. “It’s our child!”

“Stop saying that!” She snaps, loosing the already limited control she held with her emotions. “You don’t know that! Until we can get a paternity test—”

“I don’t care what the fucking test says!” He shouts. “This is my child!”

Solana’s eyes shut. Just like that. Just like that she’s taken back to all the moments shared between him. Those memories that showed a different side of the man known as the Head of the Table. A softer, vulnerable man. A loving man.

A man who’d do anything for her.

Even claim a child that’s not even biologically his.

“Roman…..” Her voice is significantly quieter, but her determination is unwavering. “I can’t be a mother right now.” She just can’t. “I’m supposed to be finishing medical school next year. I—I have plans—”

And once again, another wave of anger with both harsh and cruel delivery. “They’re not even your fucking plans, Solana. Those are your parents' plans because you’re too goddamn scared to stand up to them and be honest with yourself.”

She’s less taken back by his tone and more the words. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate or stutter as he explains, ever so clearly, “it means you keep living your life for others instead of yourself. Doing what you think makes everyone else happy instead of yourself.”

If not for this whole situation, Solana might be able to acknowledge the truth in those words. Recognize how a lifetime of feeling never enough has created a tremendous amount of people pleasing.

But, this isn’t that.

Her voice is pointed and tight. “I tried to do what makes me happy and look where it got me.” A powerful, telling statement followed by the heartbreaking acknowledgment of all that’s been destroyed. “Look what it’s cost me.”

His eyes soften as he attempts to comfort her. “Baby—”

Solana turns away and shares what, in hindsight, she should probably keep to herself. “I can’t—I can’t stay here anymore, Roman. I—I need time to—”

He cuts her off, asking almost urgently. “What do you mean you can’t stay here?” When she says nothing, he asks directly, “you’re leaving?”

Solana looks away, unable to handle whatever his nonverbal response is. “Yes.” She closes her eyes, sharing, “I’m—I’m going to stay with my abuela for a little while—”

“Solana, please—”

“I can’t stay here anymore.”

“We can figure this out—”

“It’s too—it’s too hard—”

“I can’t lose you—”

“It’s never going to work, Roman!” She yells, once again losing the battle with her emotions. Watery eyes on him, she pours out all of her emotions. “You are marrying my sister! You’re going to make her your wife! She will give you and be the mother of your children. Not me.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I don’t want her?” There’s an almost blunt coldness to his rhetorical question. But, it’s contrasted and negated as he steps toward her once more. Solana doesn’t back away this time. “I want you.”

Her eyes close once more, almost on their own accord as his hands move to her face.

“I love you,” he breathes. Whispered, sacred words spoken against her closed lids as his grasp on her waist tightens just not enough. “And, I need you….”

“Roman,” she whispers, unable to stop herself from moving her hands to his chest, fingers grasping at the soft material of his shirt. “We—we can’t.”

He doesn’t say anything, the same way she doesn’t say or do anything when he hikes her up on his waist and walks them back to her bedroom.

“You can’t leave me.” An almost pleading tone laces his words, a weight to them that matches the light weight of him on top of her as he lays her down on the bed and hovers over her slightly.

His hands moving under her shirt, his big hand rubbing over her small baby bump. An act he seems to do every time this happens between them ever since it appeared almost overnight a couple weeks ago. “Roman, n—”

“Please don’t leave,” he all but begs, effectively pulling her shirt over head, tossing it to the floor. Mouth back on hers, he breathes against her lips, “stay with me.”

Her eyes shut are clenched shut as he continues to tug her clothes off, followed by his until they’re in a crumpled pile on the floor that’s similar to the crumpled, pathetic thing that is her resolve.

“You can never leave me, Sol.” It’s another desperate plea that tumbles out his mouth at the same time he enters her, her mouth falling open at that delicious, addictive stretch.

“Roman….” Nails pressed into his back, thighs tightened around his waist, the resolve is all but desolate.

“Mine,” he vows, restricting her hands above her head, claiming her lips in a possessive, needy kiss. “Tell me,” he presses his forehead against hers. “Tell me you love me.”

And as much as she would love to deny him that, to deny him something, she can’t. Not that. Never that.

“I love you,” she whimpers, overwhelmed and overcome with it all.

Because she does.

Because as wrong as it is, Solana loves this man. Loves the man she can never have, and it’s that part of it that has her determined to follow through with her plan.

Because loving in him is nothing but a dead-end to heartbreak.

So, tonight, she’ll have this. Have him once more. One last time. Because come morning, this time, it’ll be him who wakes up alone.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

189 notes · View notes

chahnniesroom · 1 year ago

Text

in sickness and in health

pairing: kim seungmin x female reader

summary: you're the most important thing in seungmin's life, of course his biggest fear would be losing you. it means that taking care of you when you're not feeling well comes naturally.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: a little bit of angst, sickness (fever, feeling nauseous, etc.)

a/n: partially inspired by me being ill at work and my amazing coworkers taking care of me and making sure i didn't faint lol.

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Seungmin loves being an idol.

He loves to sing and performing in front of Stays always thrills him. He loves the other members and really, everyone else that he gets a chance to work with. At times it can be stressful, but for the most part, it’s fairly easy to manage the downsides of being famous.

But when he started dating you, he found out that there are parts of being an idol that he hates.

He always thought that he'd be different from a lot of idols and wouldn't be afraid to show his partner off. The second he met you though, he knew he'd do anything and everything in his power to keep you safe. You understand, of course, and do your part to make sure that only your closest friends and family are aware of who you're dating.

It pains Seungmin to do this, but he knows nothing good can come out of your identity being known.

The two of you are more than careful, sometimes Seungmin feels silly with how cautious he is about meeting up with you. Yet somehow his heart always feels like it will beat out of his chest whenever he sees articles that speculate about idol relationships.

You do your best to stop him from stressing, but it’s something that Seungmin can't quite shake. You're the most important thing in his life, of course his biggest fear would be losing you.

—

The first time his phone rings during a livestream with the whole group, Seungmin brushes it off. The caller ID says it's an unknown number and everyone he knows has been receiving a lot of spam calls and texts lately.

He swipes away the notification and tries to focus on just reading comments when the same number calls back, a couple minutes later. He ignores it again, but on the third call, he nudges Chan’s knee beside him and subtly tilts his phone screen so that Chan can see. His phone is on silent so nobody watching the live should be able to tell that he's getting the calls, but the timing feels too coincidental for him not to be suspicious.

"They keep calling," he says under his breath.

"We'll get someone to look into the number later, just keep ignoring it," Chan advises quietly.

Seungmin takes a quick screenshot of the number, then tries to get back into the conversation to distract himself. The next time he looks down at his phone again, someone is once again calling him.

Seungmin almost reflexively rejects the call, until he realises it's your nickname flashing up on his screen.

You generally don’t call Seungmin without warning, especially not during the day when there’s a higher chance that Seungmin won’t be able to readily answer.

[sent - 3:12 pm]

sorry baby, working right now, can it wait?

His stomach drops when you just call again in response. He doesn’t want to alarm any of the members or the fans when he doesn’t know what’s going on, but he has a bad feeling about this. He once again flashes his phone to Chan briefly and leans in close.

“I want to take this, I don’t know why she’s calling, but something doesn’t seem right.”

Chan bites his lip, obviously torn for a second, before he seems to make up his mind.

“We’ve been live for almost 20 minutes, give me one second and we’ll end it so that you can talk to her, yeah?” Chan puts a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder and squeezes it tightly for a moment before clapping his hands together, effectively ending the conversation that the rest of the members were having.

Seungmin makes himself smile as they all say goodbye, but it's obvious that it's forced.

Even though the live ended as quickly as possible, Seungmin still has 2 new missed calls by the time he’s found himself an empty room to use.

"Hello?"

"Uhm hello, is this Min?" a man asks hesitantly. His voice is unfamiliar and it scares Seungmin. The only thing that brings a little bit of comfort is knowing that you’re careful to never call Seungmin by his full name when talking about him with friends or coworkers, you even have his contact information set as a nickname.

"Who is this?" he asks instead. “Where’s Y/n?”

"My name is Hyunwoo, I work with Y/n-ssi. I’m very sorry for interrupting you, but Y/n-ssi said that you were one of her emergency contacts. We tried to call with another number previously, but weren’t able to reach you."

“Sorry, I generally do not answer calls from unknown numbers. Is Y/n okay?” Seungmin swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Can I- can I please speak to her?”

“She’s just not feeling well and needs to go home. She’s resting in another room, but I can get her, one moment please.”

There’s a bit of background noise, the sound of footsteps, murmuring, then finally, your voice.

“Minnie?” you ask, sounding groggy. “I’m sorry for bothering you, I know you were working today.”

“Hey baby, it’s okay. You don't have to worry about me. You know that you’re more important than work to me right? I’m glad you got them to call me. How are you doing?”

“I'm tired. I'm okay, just, I was feeling light-headed and have a headache so I can't work. Hyunwoo said he thinks I have a fever.”

“Okay, I’m going to pick you up and bring you home then. Just continue resting until I get there. I'll see you soon.”

Seungmin doesn’t know what he’d do without the other members. As soon as he finishes explaining the situation to them, they’re already calling a car and working out schedules so that there aren’t any problems.

—

Hyunwoo eyes Seungmin carefully when they first meet, likely due to the face mask and hat he's wearing. When Seungmin removes the mask and shakes Hyunwoo’s hand, he's relieved when he doesn't appear to recognise him. It's not exactly a surprise, men are generally less likely to follow k-pop groups and Seungmin hardly looks like an idol when he's barefaced and in the jeans and t-shirt that he wore for the live.

“Thank you for calling me, Hyunwoo-ssi,” Seungmin says. “Sorry I didn’t pick up at first.”

“It’s okay, Min-ssi. Y/n-ssi mentioned that your work might make you difficult to contact.” Seungmin appreciates that Hyunwoo doesn’t make any attempt to pry further.

“And thank you for taking care of Y/n.”

“It’s not a problem. Y/n-ssi is a pleasure to work with and we all want her to get better as quickly as possible. Come with me, I’ll bring you to her.”

You’re lying in a small meeting room that has all the lights off and blinds drawn. The table and chairs have all been shifted to the side to fit a yoga mat that has been laid out. You squint up at Seungmin from under a mis-match of jackets with your head resting on a pillow that matches the couches that were in the reception area of your office.

“Minnie?” Your voice is soft and a little bit confused.

“Yes, it’s me, Y/n. How’re you feeling?”

Seungmin rushes to your side, crouching on the carpet so that he can cup your cheek. Your skin is flushed and hot to the touch. You reach out a hand and he clasps it tightly with his free hand.

“Mm, I wanna go home.”

“Let’s go home then.”

The company car is still parked outside of your office building, close enough that you insist on walking yourself. Seungmin tries not to hover, but he makes sure to keep his arm looped around your waist so that you don’t stumble. The drive back to your place is fairly short, but when Seungmin glances over you’re looking unwell. Maybe it’s just the dim lighting from the backseat, but you look paler than usual and your eyes are closed.

“You feeling okay?” Seungmin asks, squeezing your hand.

“A bit nauseous,” you murmur.

“We’re almost there, just take a few deep breaths through your nose for me.”

Even though it's only a few minutes before they pull onto the street that you live on, it feels like forever. Seungmmin tries to keep you preoccupied by rubbing circles into your palm. Instead of trying to help you out of the car and into your apartment, Seungmin thanks the company driver and opts to just carry you all the way in.

He helps to change you out of your work clothes and tucks you into your bed. You link your fingers together and protest when Seungmin attempts to leave your side.

“I promise I'll be back in a second, I just want to get some things to help you feel better, okay?” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You agree, but reluctantly.

Seungmin tries to stay quiet as he rummages around your apartment, gathering some medicine, a thermometer, a glass of water, and some crackers. Next he dampens a face cloth and brings everything to your bedside table, folding up the cloth and laying it across your forehead.

He supports you in sitting up slightly to take your temperature, brushing his fingers through your hair as you wait for enough time to pass. You lean into his touch slightly, humming in pleasure when Seungmin switches to giving you a light head massage. When the thermometer beeps, it confirms what Hyunwoo suspected, you have a low grade fever.

“You have a bit of a fever,” Seungmin tells you, keeping his voice low. “Do you feel up to having some water and medicine? It'll help you feel better, I think.”

“Okay,” you say, taking the pills that Seungmin hands you and swallowing them with a bit of water.

“Do you want to rest some more now? I want you to stay hydrated so I can make broth for you or get juice.”

“Do you have another schedule? You don't have to stay and take care of me.”

“I don't have to, I want to. And what did I say earlier? Don't worry about me. I'm not missing anything important.”

“So you are missing something,” you insist, your stubbornness making itself known. Seungmin can't help but find it endearing, especially the way that your bottom lip juts out to form a pout.

“Just vocal lessons. I already know how to sing, so it’s fine. Innie had his scheduled for tomorrow, the two of us are going to swap.”

“Oh,” you say, apparently satisfied by that.

“See, nothing to worry about. Now, what did you want? Broth or juice?”

“Broth,” you decide. “But that means you'll have to leave again. I don't want to be alone.”

Seungmin hesitates for a moment before reaching for something resting on the side of your bed.

“You won't be alone, Daengmo will keep you company, okay?”

Seungmin had gifted the stuffed dog to you the first time he had gone abroad after the two of you had started dating, even though it was only to Japan. You had insisted that he keep it at first, knowing how fond he was of the toy, but he had convinced you that it would prevent you from missing him whenever he was away.

“M'kay,” you say sleepily, wrapping your arms around Daengmo.

“You can close your eyes while I'm gone and I'll be back before you know it.”

“I'm not tired,” you say, although even in the dim lighting Seungmin can see that your eyes are starting to droop. “I'm going to stay awake until you come back.”

“Whatever you say,” Seungmin replies.

He leaves your room, closing the door behind him quietly, and heads towards the kitchen.

Seungmin prepares a couple of pots to make you soup. The first he prepares with some ingredients to make a simpler version of a ginseng chicken soup. He knows it'll take a while to cook though, so he adds water, powdered chicken broth, and ginger to the second. Within a few minutes, the clear broth is ready to serve.

Seungmin scoops a portion of it into a mug and slips an ice cube in so that you won't burn your mouth trying to drink it. He makes his way back to your room as quickly as he can, but careful to avoid the liquid sloshing over the sides.

When he eases the door open, he's greeted with the side of you with your eyes closed, clutching Daengmo tightly. Your breaths are deep and even, although you stir slightly when he sets the mug down on your nightstand.

“I'm here now," he reassures you quietly. “You just keep resting.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you say in a small voice.

“Of course, I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

807 notes · View notes