#this took me two hours to think about and write... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avreygrid · 2 days ago

Text

Unheld

Oscar Piastri was never the loudest part of her world, but he was the quiet she trusted. Through time zones and voice notes, they held each other in the spaces between. Until life pulled faster than love could catch.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem! reader Genre: Angst TW: Emotional betrayal

It had been one of those days at Oxford where time slipped through my fingers like sand—lecture halls blurred into seminar rooms, my notes unreadable from speed, and my brain a buzzing, overcaffeinated mess. Between moot court prep and legal writing workshops, I barely have time to eat, let alone breathe. Lunch is often a granola bar between classes, coffee always lukewarm by the time I get to it. My evenings are for the library, hunched over a desk under the dim glow of a study lamp, chasing clarity in case law and constitutional theories.

By the time I emerged from the library, dusk had already settled over the stone courtyards, casting everything in a soft, golden hush. My back ached from hours hunched over case law, and my phone, long forgotten at the bottom of my tote, buzzed faintly against the worn leather. The screen lit up with notifications: unread messages from my study group, two missed calls from my assignment partner, a dozen emails flagged as urgent. But none from Oscar. Oscar Piastri—known to the world for the way he tamed speed, but to me, simply the boy I called mine.

I’ve known Oscar since long before either of us had titles attached to our names. We met back in boarding school—he’d just moved from Australia, all limbs and awkward silences, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t think much of him at first. He was… odd. Quiet. Kind of twitchy. And when someone mentioned he’d come here to pursue a racing career, I thought it was the nerdiest thing I’d ever heard. Who uproots their life for go-karts? Still, there was something about the way he carried that dream—quietly, almost stubbornly—that made me curious.

We ended up lab partners—random assignment, fate, who knows. That’s when things shifted. Not all at once, but slowly. Oscar wasn’t the brightest in class, but he was steady. He showed up to every study group, completed every task with a quiet kind of thoughtfulness—except on weekends or the days he was off at the track, unreachable but somehow still present.

The feelings came softly, like turning a page and realizing you’ve already read it a hundred times. It was in the way I began noticing things; how he took his coffee, how his laugh cracked when he was overtired, or how his brown eyes catch the sunlight and turn to honey. And then the traveling got busier, from one continent to another for Formula 2. That’s when it hit me—just how much space he took up in my world. How quiet the library became without him beside me, how no one stole my boxed milk at lunch anymore. How no one else knew which hallway I’d always linger in between classes.

Even when he was away, we never really stopped talking. And slowly, I learned the distance didn’t dilute the feeling—it only made it clearer. One midnight, when the world was still and he was thousands of miles away, he told me he felt it too. That everything between us wasn’t just in my head. And from that night on, we’ve been together.

It hasn’t always been easy. There have been arguments—most of them fueled by the ache of not being in the same place, of time zones and missed calls. But we made it work. We met each other in the middle. We built something on texts, on late-night FaceTimes every other day, on showing up in the small ways that mattered.

And we held on. Up until now.

He’d flown back to Melbourne for the Australian Grand Prix—home race, the first race of this season, he’d said in his last proper text, the one where he promised to call once things settled. “Been back for a few days now. Kinda surreal. I’ll call you after media day, yeah?” That was three days ago. Since then, just the occasional heart-react, a one-word reply to something she sent late at night. Not cold. Not exactly distant. Just… thin. Like trying to hold onto someone through a fog. And now, sitting alone in the far corner of the library, surrounded by the low hum of students packing up, the absence of his name on her screen felt louder than anything else.

My phone had been quiet all day. Again.

It sat face down on the edge of my desk, beside a forgotten cup of tea that had long gone cold—milk skin forming at the surface, like a film of something left too long unattended. Like me.

No missed calls. No new voice notes. Not even one of his blurry selfies from the paddock, all helmet hair and half-smiles captioned "just survived FP2." The last thing I had from him was a text from yesterday at 2:08 a.m where I’d sent him a cover video of me singing with a guitar. It was mandatory before a race weekend, he used to said.

Oscar: Sounds good. Sleep well

No follow-up. No warmth. Just a sentence that felt more like an automatic response than something meant for me. I reread it anyway. Like maybe if I squinted hard enough, I’d find more meaning tucked between the words.

I should’ve been working. There was a stack of notes on my desk, color-coded tabs sticking out like paper wounds. The mock trial was in three days. My team was counting on me. I hadn’t even finished outlining my closing argument.

But my mind was elsewhere. Stuck in a holding pattern around someone who felt further away every time I tried to reach him.

Lately, I’d started doing this thing. Every night, after my last class or study session or library sprint—I’d record a voice note. Not long ones. Just small pieces of my day. Like breadcrumbs. Like a trail back to me. For him.

So that when the chaos quieted—when the interviews stopped and the engines fell silent—he could find his way home through them. He could press play, and there I’d be. Still here. Still loving him in the in-between.

I told myself that maybe, one day, he’d listen to them all in one go, headphones on, eyes closed, smiling like he used to. And we’d catch up on everything we missed—not in real time, but in heartbeats stored in voice memos.

I opened the app. Hit record. My voice sounded thinner than usual.

"Hey," I said, and waited. The silence after that one word felt heavier than it should. “I know it’s probably past midnight over there. Or… early. I keep messing up the time difference.”

A soft laugh escaped me, more breath than sound. I hated how I sounded. Tired. Hopeful. Small.

“I hope you’re sleeping, though. You looked tired in the photos from media day. I saw the clip from the press conference. That question about Lando made you laugh—your real laugh, not the PR one.”

I paused, thumb hovering over the stop button.

“I miss that. I miss you.”

The words hung there.

Too vulnerable. Too much.

I sat with them for a second, staring at the wall across from me like it might offer a better version of myself.

Then I sighed, and started over.

"Hey. Just checking in. Hope you’re resting. Good luck tomorrow. You’ll kill it."

I sent that one. Short. Clean. Non-intrusive. The kind of message someone could reply to with a single emoji. And lately, that’s all I ever seemed to get.

Once, he would’ve called the second he heard my voice—told me I sounded sleepy and asked if I was still drinking that terrible instant coffee. I'd sent a video of my cat pawing at his headphones he had left home, and he told me he missed hearing me play the piano in the background when I studied.

Once, I was the person he reached for first.

Now, I wasn’t sure I even made the list.

Sometimes I wondered if he was drifting from me on purpose—or if he didn’t even notice he was pulling away. Maybe it wasn’t deliberate. Maybe it was just what happened when your lives started to run parallel instead of intertwined.

I picked up my phone again and scrolled up through our chat.

Oscar: Call me when you wake up x

Oscar: You’d laugh at what I just said in the drivers’ briefing lol

Oscar: I’ll FaceTime you after quali, promise

That one stung. That promise had gone unkept three times in a row now.

I scrolled up further. To voice notes I used to replay when I missed him.

“Love you. Don’t forget to eat today.” “I’ll be back before you know it.” “You’re the best part of my day, you know that?”

It didn’t feel like that now. Not anymore.

I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me was starting to wonder what it meant when someone stopped making room for you. Not all at once—no loud exit, no sharp turn. Just a quiet, slow fading. Like the dimming of a light you didn’t notice had grown weak until you were suddenly sitting in the dark.

I wrapped myself tighter in my sweater, let my tea grow colder. Oxford’s sky outside my window was heavy with clouds, the kind that never gave way to proper rain—just a dull, oppressive gray. The streetlights had already flickered on. The city was winding down. Except for me.

I was still here. Still waiting.

“Hey, Osc. I know you probably won’t hear this until morning—or maybe after qualifying—but I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow. I’ll be watching, even if I have to sneak it between lectures. You’re going to be brilliant. You always are. Also… I’m sorry I’ve been a little quiet. Things here have just been a lot lately. Law school is kind of relentless right now and I didn’t want to add noise to your already chaotic week. But that’s not fair. I should’ve still shown up.. I miss you… Just… drive safe. And don’t forget to breathe before Turn 1. You always forget to breathe there. Call me anytime, okay? I hope you feel me cheering for you—loudly—even from across the world.”

By morning, the voice note was marked as “played.” That was the first thing I saw when I reached for my phone—half-asleep, still tangled in sheets and the warmth of things I wanted to believe were still true. I blinked at the screen, heart ticking a little faster in that silly, soft way it always did before a race day. Waiting for his reply. His voice. Something.

Instead, a single sticker appeared. The one with the cartoon thumbs-up.

That was it.

No “morning, you,” No “wish you were here,” Not even a tired little selfie from the paddock with a half-smile that said nerves are kicking in.

Just… a sticker.

I stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen like touching it might coax something more out of him. Something warmer. Something real.

He’d always called before qualifying. Always. Even when the Wi-Fi was terrible or he only had five minutes between briefings. Even when he was exhausted or cranky or losing his voice. He’d FaceTime me—camera low, his hair messy, helmet half-off, and that crooked smile that made everything else feel a little lighter.

But today? Nothing.

I told myself maybe it was different this time. Maybe his whole family was there for the home race. Maybe his mum was fussing over his breakfast and Hattie had stolen his phone to post something embarrassing. Maybe being surrounded by people who had known him since he was small was comfort enough—and I wasn’t needed this time in the same way.

That was okay, wasn’t it?

Still, something in me sagged. A quiet fold of something unspoken.

I set the phone down, facedown this time. Tried to get on with my day.

But even as I packed my books for the library and tied my hair back for another endless shift at the study desk, that tiny sticker reply followed me like a shadow. Harmless. Casual. Forgettable to anyone else.

But not to me. To me, it felt like being answered with silence in a language I used to be fluent in.

I’d tried FaceTiming him—after class, after reworking the ending to my mock trial argument, even right before I fell asleep. Every time, it rang out unanswered. No reply. No emojis. Just the quiet echo of a line that used to feel like home. So today, I recorded a voice note, again.

Hey… I saw quali. P2. That’s—wow. That’s amazing, Oscar. You were brilliant yesterday. Good luck for today, O. I hope you drive safe and smart and maybe send me a little smile later, yeah? I miss you..

By the time I woke up, the race was just starting.

The group chat from my study group had already started buzzing—last-minute case outlines, a panicked voice note about courtroom posture, and two frantic messages about the mock trial dress code. I scrolled through it all mechanically, thumb swiping while my mind waited for something else. For one name. One notification.

There was nothing from him. Again.

No reply to last night’s voice note. No FaceTime call. No “wish me luck” the way he always used to say it—casual, like it didn’t matter, but always with that boyish smile that said it actually meant everything.

I stared at my phone a little longer than I should’ve, letting the silence settle in my chest like fog.

Last year, for the Australian Grand Prix, he’d FaceTimed me at 5 a.m. my time. I’d picked up groggily, barely awake, and he’d grinned through his screen in full race gear.

“Told myself I needed to see your face or I’d mess up Turn 1,” he’d joked. “You’re ridiculous,” I’d said. “Maybe. But I’m lucky,” he answered.

Even when time zones tangled us, he made space. Two minutes here. A quick call while walking to the garage. Once, just to hear my voice before lights out.

But this time? Nothing.

I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe his family was with him—maybe the paddock was crowded, or the nerves were louder this year. Maybe he needed to stay focused. Maybe he thought I’d understand.

And part of me did. I knew the pressure. I’d watched it from up close. But the other part—the one that used to be his—felt like it was slowly being replaced by silence. Sticker replies. Missed calls. Half-hearted heart reactions on things he used to comment on.

It wasn’t just distance. It felt like absence.

I set my phone down, face-up this time. Just in case. Just in case he called.

But deep down, I already knew. Today wasn’t going to be like last year.

My day was already packed—mock trial prep with my teammates, case brief revisions, printing final documents, ironing out cross-examinations over bad coffee. It was one of those days where the air felt too thin and the hours too fast. My phone stayed buried at the bottom of my tote, buzzing occasionally with study group updates and debate edits.

I didn’t even watch the race—not properly. Just caught glimpses when someone opened F1 Twitter or whispered a result under their breath. At some point, someone mentioned Oscar had finished P2.

I smiled faintly and kept flipping through my notecards, repeating a closing argument under my breath. There was no time to overthink.

But during one of our breaks—when I finally let myself sit down with my tea—I opened Twitter.

And there she was.

A blurry screen cap from the broadcast. Hattie—Oscar's sister standing in the garage. Beside her—a girl I didn’t recognize. Beautiful blonde hair. Big sunglasses. Wearing those big team headphones. Laughing, her hand brushing Hattie’s arm like they were familiar. Like they’d known each other for years.

My heart stuttered, but I brushed it off quickly. Maybe a cousin. A family friend. Someone from Melbourne they grew up with. That made sense. Hattie had a wide circle. So did Oscar. I told myself not to spiral. Not to read too much into things.

But then I kept scrolling. The algorithm knew before I did.

Clips began popping up on TikTok. Snippets of that girl again—this time, in the garage. In Oscar’s garage. A video taken from afar. Yet they stood too close. Laughing too loud. Someone had recorded them from the stands. The comments were crowded and loud.

“Who is Oscar’s girlfriend? This isn’t the usual one we’ve seen.” “Soft launch???” “Where’s the other girl??”

The other girl. Me.

My stomach dropped. I locked my phone. Put it screen-down. Tried to breathe through it. Tried to focus.

I told myself the internet makes everything seem louder than it is. That people don’t know anything. That maybe it was just badly framed, edited out of context. I told myself I had a mock trial in less than 24 hours and now wasn’t the time to fall apart.

So I pushed it down. I pushed it all down.

Focused on the courtroom. On my voice. On the facts. On the law.

And when it was finally over—when I’d delivered my statement and shaken the judges’ hands and smiled through the exhaustion—I found myself outside the building, in the gray Oxford light, dialing Oscar’s number with trembling fingers.

It rang.

And rang.

No answer.

So I texted the only thing I could.

You: are we okay?

And then, when the silence stretched too long and I couldn’t stand the not-knowing anymore, I did something I hadn’t done in months.

I messaged Hattie.

You: Hey. Is Oscar okay? Is he healthy? Sorry, it’s just been really quiet on his end and I’m not sure if… I don’t know. Just worried, I guess.

She replied ten minutes later.

Hattie: Hey Y/N! He’s out right now! He went to dinner with Maddie and some friends.

You: Glad to know he’s okay. Who’s Maddie?

Hattie: Oh! It’s Oscar’s close friend, the one who came to the race with us yesterday. He’s been spending time with her and some friends after the race. Thought you were with him too this week??

I stared at her message until the words lost meaning.

Maddie. The name settled like dust in my chest—familiar in the way old things sometimes are. I remembered it now, suddenly, vividly. One night years ago, back in the dorms, we were curled up on the floor eating instant noodles and teasing each other about exes. I’d asked if he’d ever been in love before, half-joking, and he’d shrugged, grinned a little, and said, “There was a Maddie. Long time ago. I was in junior high.” I hadn’t thought about it since. Until now. Until Hattie said her name like I was supposed to know her place.

Dinner. Maddie. Came to the race with us. Thought I knew.

I didn’t.

And suddenly, I wasn’t even sure what I did know anymore.

It wasn’t cheating. That was the first thing I told myself. Over and over, like a line from a textbook I was trying to memorize.

It wasn’t cheating. He hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t said anything cruel or final.

And yet, it felt like something sacred had been undone.

Because what he gave her—his time, his nearness, the small pieces of his day—that used to be mine. Used to be ours. He used to FaceTime me even when his eyes were half-closing from exhaustion. Used to send voice notes from the back of the garage, laugh whispering into the phone like it was a secret just for me. He used to say “Two minutes is enough if it’s with you.”

And now, all I had were those words from Hattie.

Maddie. Dinner. Thought you knew. Thought you were with him.

I didn’t.

I didn’t know a thing.

The mock trial had ended yesterday, but I didn’t feel anything. No relief. No pride. Just silence ringing in my ears as my teammates celebrated with group pictures and takeaway food, their voices echoing around me like I was underwater.

It hit slowly, like a tide coming in.

I came home that night and everything was still. The kind of still that feels staged. Like the room was pretending to be normal so I wouldn’t notice what had changed.

I took off my blazer, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at the floor for a long time.

And then I saw them. The biscuits.

Still sealed. Shoved into the back of my pantry, right where I’d left them weeks ago—his favorite kind, the ones with the buttery centers. I’d bought them on impulse when I thought he might be visiting in April. I remember checking the expiry date. Making sure they’d still be good.

They were still good. I wasn’t.

I left them there and moved into the bathroom, needing to do something, anything. That’s when I saw his toothbrush—soft-bristled, pale blue, still standing in the glass beside mine like it belonged here.

I stared at it too long. Too long to pretend I was okay.

And then the final undoing. The photo.

It fell out from between the pages of a notebook I was clearing—tucked there like a pressed flower I didn’t remember saving. It was from that photo booth in Barcelona. We’d gotten soaked in the rain and ducked into a tiny alley café, and there was a booth by the back wall. Four frames of both of us—laughing, my hair damp and wild, his hand half-covering the lens in the last one because he’d been trying to pull me closer. We looked… impossibly happy.

And I broke.

Just like that. No warning. No storm.

I sank to the floor, photo still in my hand, and let the weight of it all finally crack me open. The grief wasn’t sharp—it was slow, aching, familiar. Mourning someone who hadn’t died, just slowly faded from the version of them you once loved.

I wasn’t crying because he cheated. I was crying because I didn’t know we’d already ended. Because he’d left me behind gently, silently, like putting down a book you don’t plan to finish, but can’t quite bring yourself to close. Because he stopped letting me in quietly, and I hadn’t even noticed the door closing. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped being the person he shared his days with.

I didn’t plan on calling him. Not really.

I’d rehearsed the words in my head a dozen times, tucked them into half-written texts, whispered them in the dark like a secret I wasn’t sure I was ready to say out loud. But that night, when the quiet became too loud and the weight of everything I hadn’t said pressed against my ribs, I found myself holding the phone again.

One ring. Then two. Then three.

He answered on the fourth.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft. Uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure which version of me he was about to get.

And I almost hung up.

But instead, I breathed in, and let the truth unravel.

“I’m not calling to fight,” I started. “I’m not even angry, Oscar. I just… I need you to know that I know.”

There was a pause. He didn’t ask what I knew. He didn’t have to.

“I saw her,” I said. “Maddie. I saw all of it. And it’s not that I think you cheated—I don’t. But you gave her parts of you I didn’t even know you’d stopped giving me.”

Silence again. A weighted breath on his end. But he still said nothing.

“I tried. God, I tried. I recorded voice notes when you stopped calling. I sent messages that barely got answers. I watched you win, and I cheered for you even when it felt like I didn’t exist in your world anymore.”

My voice cracked then, just once.

“And I missed you. Every day, I missed you. But I can’t keep giving when you don’t even notice I’m gone.”

Still, he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I just… I need space. I need to remember who I am when I’m not waiting on a message that never comes.”

A long beat.

And then, softly, he said, “I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.”

I closed my eyes. Let the silence ruled. He didn’t fight. Didn’t beg me to stay. And maybe that hurt the most.

Maybe he thought, like always, I’d come back when the air cleared. When the tension softened. When time stitched things back together like it always did.

But I didn’t.

That was the last time I called.

Oscar’s POV

I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.

Not the silence. Not the distance. Not the feeling of waking up and realizing the only person who ever made all this feel real had stopped waiting for me.

It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t one moment. It was a thousand tiny ones.

I told myself I was tired. That the schedule was brutal. That time zones were messy and I’d call her when things calmed down. After media day. After the car felt better. After I figured out how to explain the exhaustion without sounding ungrateful.

And then Maddie showed up.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just familiarity. She was around again—someone from home, someone who didn’t need explaining. Someone who already knew the version of me that existed before the pressure, before the travel, before the grid turned me into something slightly less human every weekend.

When I got back to Melbourne, everything moved too fast. Media, family, press runs, fans. I barely had time to sleep, let alone think. Maddie showed up one afternoon, casual as ever, laughing like the years hadn’t passed. She came with Hattie, actually. It was just supposed to be dinner.

And maybe I should’ve told Y/N that. Maybe that was the moment—where I should’ve sent a text, called, said something. But I didn’t.

Not because I didn’t care. Because I didn’t want to hold it up to the light and realize how far I’d already drifted.

It wasn’t romantic, at first. It wasn’t intentional. But the truth is, I let someone else fill in the silence she used to keep warm for me. I leaned on someone close because the person I loved was far. Because she felt like the part of my life I couldn’t carry in the suitcase anymore.

I didn’t realize how far I’d let things slip until Hattie texted me.

“Did you talk to her yet?” “Y/N messaged me asking if you were okay. She didn’t know you were out with Maddie.”

But instead of fixing it, I froze.

I stopped calling—not because I didn’t want to hear her voice, but because I didn’t know what to say when I did. The guilt made me quiet. The fear kept me there. I kept telling myself I’d reach out after this weekend, after the chaos, after the race. But there was always another race.

And deep down, I thought she’d wait. That she’d still be there. That she’d understand like she always did. That I could fumble and fall short and she’d still be the one to reach back. So I let the days pass. I let her messages sit unopened. I told myself it was temporary. That once the chaos settled, I’d explain. I’d FaceTime her and she’d smile, tired and soft, and say, “You’re an idiot, but I missed you too.”

Then the phone rang. I picked up.

Her voice—tired but even, cracked but careful—told me everything I hadn’t been brave enough to admit. She didn’t yell. She didn’t accuse. She didn’t demand anything from me.

“I can’t keep giving when you don’t even notice I’m gone.”

That line hit me like a crash I didn’t see coming.

Because I hadn’t noticed. Not until she said it. Not until it was already too late.

And I didn’t fight. I didn’t stop her. Because what right did I have?

All I’d given her was silence. And now, that silence is all I have left of her.

The results were good. Better than good. Pole positions. Podiums. A win that lit up the paddock and had half the world calling it the best drive of my career.

On paper, I was thriving.

But something was off. And those closest to me—engineers, trainers, even Lando—they could feel it, even if they didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way I started pushing the car harder than necessary, taking risks I didn’t usually take, burning through sectors like I had something to prove. Or lose.

“You’re pushing when you don’t need to,” they said.

They weren’t wrong.

Because when you’re distracted, when your chest is full of static and your head’s somewhere else entirely, pushing becomes easier than feeling.

I’d sit on the podium, smile for the cameras, hold the trophy like it meant something—but the smile never quite made it to my eyes. I knew it. I could feel it. I’d look out into the crowd and think, She should be here.

But she wasn’t. And I was the reason why.

At night, in hotel rooms that all blurred together, I’d find myself opening our old messages. Just to look at them. Like a museum of the person I used to be. Like maybe if I scrolled long enough, I’d find a version of us I hadn’t ruined yet.

I nearly texted her. So many times.

Typed things like “I miss you.” or “I’m sorry.”

But I never hit send. Because I didn’t know if I had the right anymore. Because I kept thinking—maybe she just needs time, she’ll call when she’s ready.

But she didn’t. She didn’t call. She didn’t text. She didn’t even watch the races anymore, at least not that I could tell.

And that’s when it hit me.

She wasn’t waiting for me to notice. She wasn’t hoping I’d chase her. She was already gone.

I thought she’d always be there. I really did. But now that she’s not, I realize just how much of my world she actually was.

The team won again last weekend. I crossed the line first. Champagne, cheers, confetti. Another podium. Another perfect result.

I didn’t stay for the photos.

I walked straight past the camera crews, peeled off my helmet like it was choking me, and locked myself in the back of the motorhome until everyone stopped knocking. I stared at my gloves on the table like they belonged to someone else.

Everything around me was winning. Except me.

People kept saying I was driving better than ever—but I wasn’t. I was driving harder. Recklessly.

My engineer’s voice cracked through the radio mid-race, “Oscar, calm down. You’re five seconds clear, you don’t need to push—”

But I did.

Because every time I eased off, the silence came back. Her voice, that last call, the way she didn’t yell, didn’t cry—she just told me the truth. That she’d given everything. And I didn’t even notice she was slipping away.

So I pushed. And pushed. And nearly lost it in Turn 8.

I caught the slide by instinct alone. For a second, the rear snapped so violently I saw the barriers rushing toward me like jaws opening. I didn’t even blink. I didn’t even flinch.

A part of me wanted to let go. Just for a second. Just to see what it would feel like to surrender to something.

Because grief isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s this low hum behind your ribs, so constant you forget what quiet really sounds like. I carry it in my chest now—in the way I walk back to the hotel, in the way I eat alone, in the fact that I don’t even check my phone after a win.

There are no messages from her anymore.

No “Proud of you, even from across the world.” No voice notes. Not even a question.

And now I’m stuck in this loop of podiums I can’t feel, nights I can’t sleep through, and a version of myself I don’t recognize anymore.

The truth is—I don’t want to die. I just don’t know how to live without her.

Y/N’s POV

I’ve been focusing on myself lately.

It sounds simple, like a self-help cliché. But for me, it’s new. Foreign. Not because I didn’t have dreams before, but because I’d spent so long folding myself around someone else’s orbit, I forgot how much space I could take up on my own.

Now, I fill my days with things that are mine—brief-writing marathons in the library, mock trial rehearsals that stretch into midnight, group lunches that turn into debates about case law and coffee orders. I laugh more. I sleep less. I am busy in a way that finally feels like building, not waiting.

I miss him. Of course I do. Some mornings, it hits me like a breath I can’t quite catch—when I wake up and reach instinctively for a voice note that’s not there. When something funny happens and I think, he’d love this, and then remember there’s no one to send it to.

I still watch him race. Quietly. From afar.

Sometimes, in the middle of a study break, I’ll stream races with the volume low, just to see how he’s doing. He’s winning. The world is cheering for him, and he deserves it. But there’s something about the way he carries himself now that feels… off. Like the light’s there, but it doesn’t touch his eyes anymore.

Last race, he almost lost it. The car snapped. Just for a second. But my heart dropped like a stone. My hand was already halfway to my phone before I caught myself.

I didn’t call. I couldn’t.

Because I knew—if I dialed his number, I’d be right back where I started. I’d be the girl who waited, who compromised, who made herself smaller just to stay in someone else’s story.

And I’m not that girl anymore.

I loved him. I still do, in some shape or shadow of that love. But I won’t shrink for it again. I won’t forget everything it took for me to choose myself.

So I let the silence stay. I sat with the ache. And I knew, even as my heart tugged in a thousand directions, that I made the right choice.

It was the kind of rain Oxford is known for—more mist than downpour, the kind that settled into your skin like memory.

I’d left my umbrella somewhere, maybe in a lecture hall, maybe under a library chair. My shoulders ached from hours bent over legal drafts, and my eyes burned from sleep I hadn’t caught. All I wanted was the quiet of my room and the sound of nothing.

And then I heard it—my name.

Soft. Familiar. Almost shy.

I turned.

There he was. Oscar.

Soaked through the sleeves of his shirt, his hair curling damp at the ends, standing like he didn’t know whether to come closer or disappear. He looked the same, mostly. A little older around the eyes. A little more undone.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stepped toward me and held his umbrella out, tilting it gently over my head like it still made sense to protect me from the rain.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t lean in. Didn’t lean away.

We just stood there, in the thin hush of drizzle and unsaid things, and I waited to see what kind of man he’d become in the silence.

Then he said it, “I’m sorry.”

Not rushed. Not panicked. Just... honest. Unadorned.

“I thought I had more time. I thought you’d always be there. But I get it now. I lost something I didn’t know how to hold.”

I felt the weight of it land in my chest—not because it was perfect, but because it wasn’t. Because it was flawed and fragile and real.

And still, I didn’t say anything.

The rain was soft against my cheeks, or maybe it was something else. I couldn’t tell.

A part of me wanted to fall into him—let the moment wrap around us like it used to. Pretend the hurt hadn’t taken root, that missing him hadn’t changed me. That I wasn’t still holding all the pieces I had to gather when he left me behind.

But I’d grown around the ache. I’d learned to carry silence like a second skin. I’d built a life that didn’t have him in it—and somehow, that life still stood.

So I just looked at him.

Not with anger. Not with forgiveness. Just with the quiet of someone still deciding.

Because maybe forgiveness doesn’t come in grand declarations or sweeping gestures. Maybe it comes in moments like this—soft, unsure, standing in the rain where everything could be rewritten, or nothing at all.

He didn’t ask for anything more.

And I didn’t give it. Not yet. But I let him stay there beside me, holding up the umbrella. And maybe, just maybe—that was enough for now.

171 notes · View notes

kimmeiy · 1 day ago

Text

the engagement party

sophia laforteza x reader

synopsis- with an engagement party coming up, y/n has to put up with sophia’s bitchy wealthy family. problem is, y/n is known for cussing out family members.

warnings- none i think

wc- 1190

i wrote this with a headache at 3am so it’s probably ass (it’s my first time writing)

sophia walked into the living room, makeup done and dressed, ready for the engagement party and she couldn’t hold back the annoyed sigh as she saw y/n, lounging on the couch casually as if they didn't have to leave in less than an hour.

“are you kidding me? why aren’t you getting dressed?”

sophia was already stressed. interactions between you and her family have never ended well and now you’re not even bothering to get ready.

you looked up confused, wondering where she was planning on going.

“dressed for what?”

that alone made sophia want to strangle you. there’s no way you’re doing this right now. she checks the time on her phone.

“are you serious? my cousin's engagement party. we have to leave in less than an hour.”

y/n sits up from the couch, digging through her brain before she finally remembers that sophia has been constantly reminding her about this party for the last two weeks.

“that’s today? i thought you said the 13th?”

“it 𝘪𝘴 the 13th. just get ready! you’re going to make us late.”

sophia puts a hand on her head and lets out another frustrated sigh as she watches y/n run around, rushing to get dressed. she checks her phone constantly, watching the time and getting more and more frustrated at every minute that passes.

when y/n finally rushes out dressed, sophia checks the time once again.

“took you long enough. we need to leave now or we’ll be late”

the whole way there, you can tell sophia is annoyed. you try to make conversation but she just brushes you off and looks out the window the whole drive. when you arrive at the venue, sophia finally turns to you, but the look on her face has you letting out a sigh.

“before we go in there, i don’t want any shit from you. i don’t care if you don’t like my family, you’re going to behave yourself.”

you roll your eyes and let out a groan

“cuss out an aunt once and suddenly i’m being scolded like a child”

“well yes! you keep acting like a child so that’s how you’re going to be treated”

“fine, if it makes you feel better, i’ll stay by your side the whole time.”

sophia nods, seemingly satisfied with that. you get inside and as soon as you’re greeted, the insults start flying.

it goes from, ‘your hair is too messy’ to, ‘you couldn’t bother to wear some makeup for once?’. it hasn’t even been ten minutes and you’re already drawn to the bar but sophia has a firm grasp on your hand, refusing to let you leave her side.

your eyes roam the party, taking in all the familiar and new faces before they finally land on the one that made you dread this a little less. sophia’s cousin matthew is the only one you actually enjoy being around. he doesn’t act like he has a stick up his ass or like he’s the best person in the immediate vicinity. you look for any opportunity to be freed from sophia’s grip. when you try to pull away, her hand tightens around yours.

“where are you going?” she pauses her conversation to ask

“i gotta use the restroom”

she lets go of your hand without a second thought and when she isn’t looking, you turn in the direction of matthew and quickly hide behind him

“what are you doing?”

“i’m hiding from sophia. she wants me to stay with her the whole time but it’s so boring.”

matthew playfully rolls his eyes,

“bar?”

“hell yeah”

the whole way to the bar, you’re on the look out for sophia. you quickly ask the bartender for the strongest drink he can mix, looking over your shoulder the whole time.

“really? you need a drink that bad?”

“no offense, but you’re family sucks”

“none taken”

when you get your drink, you try to drink it as quickly as you can.

“you plan on causing another scene this time?”

“nah, i’d rather not have sophia threaten to strangle me and leave me in a ditch again”

“that’s a shame, i was hoping for some entertainment”

you scoff and bring the glass to your mouth again, when matthew looks over your shoulder, he makes a panicked face and gestures for you to drink quicker. before you’re done, the glass is snatched from your hand.

“this doesn’t look like the restroom”

“oh, you see, what had happened was, i tripped and grabbed on to the nearest thing, that happened to be the glass.”

“are you serious? we haven’t been here for thirty minutes and you’re already drinking? you haven’t even socialized”

“i did though! with matthew” you point to the man who seems to only be interested in the drama

“matthew doesn’t count! i swear i should have left you at home”

“i’m not even doing anything! we’re just having a harmless drink”

“let’s go and stay away from matthew. you two are always up to something”

“can i at least finish my drink?”

“no.”

another hour, sophia has your hand tightly in hers, leaving no room for an escape. she talks with her aunts and you’re just there, trying to look polite, pretending to be interested in the conversation. one comment in particular caught your attention however

“when will you finally settle down with a nice young man sophia?”

you can tell the comment also took her by surprise as she seems to not know what to say

“she’ll do that when you finally decide to leave your cheating husband” you say quickly, earning a sharp gasp from most people who heard it and a slap on the arm from sophia

“what? everyone wonders the same thing”

the thing is, you’ve only ever acted out around her family when they disrespected sophia. she never defends herself so you do it for her, not liking when 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 says something against her.

“what did you say to me?” her bitchy aunt says

“well-“ before you can finish, sophia pulls you away, apologizing until they can’t hear her.

“what’s wrong with you? why would you say that!”

“i’m supposed to just let her say whatever she wants to you?”

“you didn’t have to say anything! why do you always have to go causing problems?”

“because you never defend yourself! you just let them say shit to you and it pisses me off”

sophia rolls her eyes, she knows that you just want to defend her but this is her family, she used to this

“you always go too far”

“okay, i’m sorry, but she just upset me.”

“yeah, she upsets everyone but nobody ever says anything”

“except me”

“except you.”

sophia stays silent for a few seconds, clearly thinking about something.

“thank you… for always defending me when i’m not brave enough to do it myself”

“i’d gladly do it every time”

“y/n! glad to know i can always count on you to keep the parties interesting!”

matthew shouts from where he stands at the bar and you just shake your head with a smile.

‘god i hate this family’

#katseye #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #female reader #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #megan skiendiel #lara raj #jeong yoonchae #katseye x reader

185 notes · View notes

that-sokovian-bastard · 2 days ago

Text

What Do I Need With...Alone Time? - Bruce Wayne x (f)Reader

Words: 2847 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x (f)Reader Warnings: SMUT. Minors DNI! 18+ only!!!! Swearing, unprotected sex (wrap it up babes), PIV sex. Summary: It’s not often you and Bruce get alone time, so you’re going to make the best of it. Author’s Note: This takes place in the same universe as my fic, What Do I Need With Love, but it can be read on its own. In this, you and Bruce have been dating for about a year and a half and Bruce officially adopted Dick a year ago. I have ages headcanoned for the characters, so if you care, Bruce is 24, you are 22, and Dick is 9. Also, you are Bruce’s assistant, but that doesn’t really matter for the smut.

I was originally going to write a 20+ part series in this universe, but I only ended up finishing like three parts. I hope to return to it one day. This was written probably about two years ago.

Bruce / Full Masterlist

---

You made your way into the Cave, knowing you’d have to be quick and precise about your proposition. You knew he’d be working, but this was a rare occasion when the Manor was empty.

“Hey,” You called out once you made it to the bottom of the steps.

“Hey, hon,” Bruce called back, not looking away from the bat computer as he typed away.

When you made it to the chair, you stood at the back and put your hands on his shoulders. “Whatcha working on?” You asked, not really interested.

“Something Kal sent over, he needed me to take a look at a file. Thinks one of his guys is hiding out in Gotham and–” He paused as you started slowly moving your hands up and down his biceps. “What are you doing?” Bruce asked and looked back over his shoulder at you.

“What do you mean?” You smiled innocently.

Bruce’s hands left his keyboard as he turned the chair with his feet so you two were now facing each other. “You’re not sly, honey,” Bruce smirked and pushed your hands off his shoulders. “I have to do this work, you can’t distract me.” At that, he turned the chair back around to the computer and nearly started typing again.

“Kal can wait,” You whined and walked around the chair, pushing his hands off the keyboard before he could type, and stood in front of him. “We’ve been so busy lately.”

“For good reason,” Bruce nodded once.

You groaned, knowing he wasn’t listening to you to tease you. He leaned back in his chair to look at your annoyed face, and you took that as an invitation. You pushed off the desk and quickly positioned yourself in Bruce’s lap, straddling him with your arms around his neck. There really wasn’t much space in the chair for a second person, and your jeans were slippery against his sweatpants, so you started to slip. Before you could allow yourself to readjust, Bruce’s hands went to catch you by grabbing your ass.

“Is this supposed to persuade me into something?” He asked once he pulled you closer, holding you so you wouldn’t slip. With how Bruce held you close, your faces were only a few inches apart. Not to mention the rest of your bodies; you could lean forward, and you’d be lying on him.

“Not into anything you wouldn’t want, Mr. Wayne,” You smiled.

Bruce sighed and cocked his head to the side. “Unfortunately, we can’t,” He said, and you gave him a confused look. “We’re not the only ones in this house, and they could walk in any moment.”

“Nuh-uh,” You shook your head. “Alfred’s grocery shopping.”

“He takes thirty minutes at the store, you know that, baby,” Bruce chuckled, admiring your tactics.

“Normally, yes. But today he picked Dick up from school because he had specific needs for the pantry. And you know that when Dick goes to a store, he has to go up and down every single aisle to make sure he has exactly everything he needs,” You said, very matter-of-factly. “We have at least two hours.”

Bruce moved his head again, back to being directly in line with yours. “Well then,” He said, making you giggle a bit when he adjusted his hands to be more spread, still holding you. “It seems like you’ve thought through everything.”

“I have,” You nodded. “Besides, we have a kid who has forgotten what boundaries are. Who knows when he’ll be out of the house again.”

“All right,” Bruce sighed. “You’ve convinced me.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“Honestly, you convinced me as soon as you touched my shoulders,” He said. “Maybe even the second you came into the Cave, actually,” Bruce grinned. “I just wanted to see what you had to say.”

“Evil!” You scoffed at him. “Making me work so hard for something you wanted, too.”

Bruce closed the small gap between the two of you and smiled into your kiss. “Well, I’ll make you a deal,” He said, breaking the kiss for a moment. “That’s the hardest I’ll make you work tonight. How’s that?”

“I think I can accept that as an apology,” You said and leaned in again to kiss Bruce. Quickly, the kiss moved from sweet and gentle to hungry. You nearly slipped again when one of Bruce’s hands moved from your ass to your waist, but his grip was tight enough that you knew you weren’t going anywhere.

As he held you, his mouth moved from yours, and he went to kiss your jawline, your chin, and your neck. “Take this off,” He mumbled into your skin, tugging at your shirt with the hand on your waist.

You giggled again, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head and drop it on the floor behind you, leaving you in your bra. Bruce’s hand returned to your waist, and his mouth to your skin, this time going further down your neck and lining the cloth of your bra with kisses. Your hands returned to behind his neck, and you threw your head back so he could keep peppering kisses wherever he wanted, spending more time on some to leave a few marks.

“Don’t leave too many,” You reminded him. “We have a gala on Friday and–”

“Don’t care,” He said, his mouth still on you. “Not like they don’t know we’re dating.”

You rolled your eyes, not that Bruce could see. “No, but people don’t need to know what we do in our private time.”

He stopped kissing you as soon as the sentence left your mouth. “You do remember that the press ran stories daily about how much of a playboy I am and who I’m sleeping with, right?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Yes–”

“They know we fuck,” Bruce said, very bluntly. “Besides, I thought you wanted this.”

“I-I do, Bruce, but–”

“Then stop talking,” He said and dove back to your breasts, planting more kisses, and now more hickeys solely because you were giving him crap.

Fine, if he wanted to play that way, then you would, too. Your hands started pulling at the neck of his shirt until he had to detach from you to allow you to take it off over his head, also dropping it to the floor behind the chair. Before he could get his mouth back on you, you started at his neck, leaving a trail of purple hickeys as payback.

His hands ran up your back as you sucked on his neck, his grip still tight enough that you wouldn’t fall. Your face started to go up his neck to his jaw and ear, pulling you two closer together so that your chests were touching. Before you could even get a nip at his ear, the hands on your back started to fiddle with your bra and unclasp it, pulling the straps down and your arms following to take it off.

It was always cold in the Batcave, but when you were like this, with your bare chests pressed against each other, it was the warmest place in the whole manor.

Bruce’s hands went back to your ass, and in one swift motion, he stood up from the chair while holding you. He carried you to one of the cleaner tables, sweeping a few things out of the way when he set you down. When he returned to you, standing between your legs, he went back to leaving a few more kisses as his hands started to unbutton your jeans. His mouth never left your skin as he slid them down until he couldn’t reach anymore, and he squatted to pull them off your ankles. He grabbed your legs again, pulling you to the very edge of the table, and stayed in that position.

His fingers hooked on your underwear, and he started to pull those, too. “Not fair,” You said, and Bruce looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. “You’re still half-dressed!”

“I told you that you wouldn’t have to do any of the work,” Bruce said, returning to pulling your underwear off. “I am a man of my word. Now, stop talking and let me work,” He said, taking your underwear off and discarding them on your jeans. As you sat in front of him, completely naked, he took a moment to admire you. Sure, you and Bruce have had sex recently, but they’re usually very quick engagements due to the short amount of time you have and the fear of Dick bursting into your bedroom. He hadn’t gotten to admire your beauty like this in months. And he was going to take full advantage of the fact that you two were alone and he was going to take his time. With your busy schedules, especially recently, most of your sex life consisted of quickies after patrol or in the shower. Keeping this thought in his mind, he put his hands on your knees and spread your legs further apart.

He leaned in, slowly licking at your folds, tasting the wetness that was already there. Bruce moved his tongue slowly, enjoying that he was able to go slow and breathe you in. His tongue circled your clit, making you gasp and instinctively put one hand in Bruce’s hair, trying to get him to give you more. But he insisted on taking his time.

Bruce is strong, so while he let you keep your hand in his hair, he was resisting you trying to guide him where you wanted. His tongue tickled over your clit for a few minutes before he moved down to your entrance, circling there, too. “Bruce,” You moaned out, hand still trying to guide him closer.

“Patience,” He said, his face not moving away from your pussy, just making you groan again.

One of his hands left your knee and rubbed his fingers along you, making you arch your back in reaction. “Bruce,” You moaned again as his fingers and mouth continued to play with you.

“Shh,” He hissed, not giving you anything else as he continued to lick and prod at you. He slowly stuck one finger inside you, moving slowly. He felt around, feeling you clench as he pumped in and out. Bruce could tell his slow movements were building you up, but you wouldn’t be able to make it over the edge unless he sped up.

He wasn’t going to; he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. As he felt you growing with need and the hands in his hair getting more aggressive, he pulled his finger out and his face back.

“Fuck you,” You breathed out as your hands dropped from his hair. “I was almost there.”

Bruce smirked, standing up fully. “I know. That’s why I stopped.” He moved his hands to his sweatpants, shaking them off quickly, followed by his boxers. “We’ve got time, as you said.”

Bruce moved back to where you sat on the table, closing his arms around your waist, making your chests touch again. His legs were between yours, with your inner thighs hitting his hips. “You’re so beautiful,” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you softly.

When you released a minute later, you smiled at him. “You are, too,” You said.

“We don’t get enough time to be just us,” Bruce noted, your arms still around each other and skin touching.

“Whose fault is that?” You asked.

Bruce hummed for a moment. “Probably Kal’s.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure,” You said. “Now, I know we have time, but when are you thinking of…” You trailed off, your eyes darting down to his hard cock.

“You’re being impatient, again,” He chuckled and moved one hand from around you and to himself, starting to stroke.

“I was so close, Bruce,” You whined. “And then you stopped. So yes, I’m impatient.”

“Have you always been this talkative while being intimate?” Bruce asked.

With another roll of your eyes, you opened your mouth to answer, but the words were stolen from you as he rubbed the head of his cock between you. “Well, have you?” He prompted again, knowing what effect he had on you.

You took a deep breath to answer. “Only when you’re teasing,” You forced through your breaths. “And usually, we don’t have time to talk.”

“Fair point,” He said, deciding to cut the conversation off there as he pushed forward into you, going slow enough to let you adjust.

Your hands were still on his back, and one of his hands was on your waist until he finished guiding himself into you. When he was fully in, he moved his other hand back to your waist and began to thrust, not wasting any more time. You bounced on the table, running your hands across the scars on his back.

“B-Bruce,” You moaned out, already getting close to your orgasm again.

“Already?” He grunted. “Want me to slow down?”

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his steady pace in and out of you, holding onto your hips tightly. You threw your head into the crook of his neck, muffled moans vibrating off his skin. Bruce also leaned his head forward, sinking more kisses into your neck and jaw, only making your moans more rapid.

“Holy shit, baby,” Bruce grunted, pulling his head back from your neck slightly. “We should do this more often.”

You nodded into his shoulder, muttering something he couldn’t make out. “What was that?” He prompted.

“Y-yes, we should,” You forced out, still not entirely there, but Bruce caught it this time. “Bruce, I’m gonna–” You stopped yourself as you could feel your legs start to shake, and you threw your head back, arching yourself into him.

“Me too,” He said, watching you carefully. Bruce could tell he was still further away from his orgasm than you were, but he knew you were right there. “Let it out, baby,” He said.

And you did as soon as he spoke. He felt you tighten around him as you yelled his name through your moans, Bruce growing closer to his orgasm as he heard the noises you made. “I love it when you say my name like that,” He spoke right against your ear as you continued to say his name, gasp, and moan as you rode your high.

“Bruce,” You gasped out again when you felt clearer in your head. You weren’t surprised he hadn’t stopped after you came, and you didn’t care, because you wanted him to enjoy this and finish just as much as you did. Though you were much more tired once you came down, trying to move your hips in sync with his, but you were slower.

He didn’t say anything to you, just kept thrusting, and you could feel him getting closer. It wouldn’t be much longer before he also came, which meant your alone time was also coming to an end.

Bruce moaned out your name, long and breathy, as he rode out his orgasm inside you. You kissed his neck again, letting him take as long as he needed, and you could feel him continuing to twitch. You’re not sure how much time passed before he pulled out of you, but you were back into a haze. He put his hand under your chin, slightly lifting it so he could kiss you. This time, it was a soft, sensual kiss. “We should definitely do this more often,” He said when he released from the kiss.

“I agree,” You smiled, still sitting on the cold table. “Unfortunately, I think we need to get cleaned up, though.”

“I’ll grab a towel to wipe down the table, you pick up the clothes, and head to the shower. I’ll meet you there,” He smiled, putting his hands on your waist again to help you down. “Sound like a plan?”

You nodded. “Sounds perfect,” You said and bent over to pick up the clothes near you before heading over to the ones by the computer. There was still time before Alfred and Dick would be home, so it was going to be an extra nice shower. “I’ll meet you there,” You called out to him before heading to the shower just off the Cave’s lockers.

Bruce wiped the table quickly, reorganizing the things he pushed out of the way, and followed behind you a few minutes later. He’s made a mental note that you two need to have more time blocked off for alone time, instead of just quickies here and there. But you run his schedule, so it shouldn’t be too hard to convince you to add some buffer times throughout the week.

He smiled as he heard the water in the shower turn on, and it pulled him out of his thoughts. Bruce threw the towel on top of your clothes in the hamper in the bathroom, opening the door to the shower and standing behind you. As the warm water hit your bodies, he put his hands on your shoulders and continued to kiss you again. An extra nice shower, indeed.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #dc #dcu #the batman #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #dc comics #dc imagines #dc fanfic

61 notes · View notes

xjangmii · 14 hours ago

Text

Saja Boys and secret dates

A/N: Thank you for the support on my last post! <3

If you want to request something or just have questions, don’t feel afraid to send them!! (Idk what to write T^T)

Summary: You‘re living with the HUNTR/X girls, having learnt to fight demons and to, one day, finally seal the honmoon. Yet when it‘s almost complete, a demon boy band appears out of nowhere, the Saja Boys. Everything you‘ve learnt about demons is cast aside when you fall for one of them and now you secretly meet eachother every night. How, you might be asking? By sneaking out.

Warnings: Mentions of blood in Baby‘s part (possibly bad grammar, english is not my first language)

Jinu Saja

🐯 imagine your first secret meeting with him like the one he had with Rumi in the movie

🐯 when you first saw Derpy and Magpie, you were quite startled. So, your first instinct was to eliminate them. But when Derpy accidentally kicked over the trash can in your room and tried to bring it to stand again, you practically melted

🐯 whenever Derpy visits you and brings you one of Jinu‘s cards, you give him some treats and pet him

🐯 at first you were extremely careful, always trying not to make any noise and putting a makeshift puppet on your bed

🐯 whenever you two meet, it’s at an enclosed area with almost no people nearby

🐯 when you started sending him your own cards he was practically squealing like a highschool girl

🐯 Rumi once caught you two while you were on a walk together (it was in the evening and Jinu wore a disguise), so now you two always meet at night, just to be sure no one will catch you

🐯 you two once made another hat for Derpy one night, but Magpie stole that aswell

🐯 Zoey stormed into your room while Derpy brought you a card, so you had to hide him behind you. She saw the giant tail behind your back and squealed excitedly, thinking you were now into cosplay. She brought you multiple sets of her old clothes, tutorials on how to make wigs and such the next day

🐯 you both had your 'Free' moment at some point

🐯 you took him to an aquarium once and he was in absolute awe the entire time

🐯 he took you to a few old temples from his era, explaining how they were made and what they were for

Aquarium Night:

"Why didn’t you want to tell me where we are going?" Jinu asked curiously, matching your speed as you dragged him with you. You chuckled, looking back at him with a soft smile "Because then it wouldn’t be a suprise, you idiot!"

When you saw the building you were talking about, you quickly sped up, Jinu yelping in suprise as he staggered forward. You laughed lightly, muttering a short 'sorry' as you walked a tiny bit slower. Arriving at your destination, you let go of his hand, standing infront of the building and excitedly waving your hands "Ta-daaa!!" Jinu just stared at it in silence, confusion evident on his face. " 'Sea Life'?" his tone carried a hint of mockery, silently contemplating whether to tell you 'Sorry, but I forgot something. Let‘s meet tomorrow!' or to just get it over with. "What‘s that supposed to be? A pool house?" You snorted slightly, envisioning all kinds of fish in a sauna. "Nooo!! Just come with me, it‘s still open for the next hour!" Grabbing his hand again, you pulled him with you, quickly paying the entry fee before going inside.

While you were busy with paying the entry fee, Jinu stared at the ceiling, his gaze distant yet also filled with admiration. Above him, the skeleton of a blue wale hung, decorated with little stars hanging at its sides. The ceiling was painted a deep blue fading into a more lighter blue, each new color adorned with tiny stars, a moon and a light yellow sun. His pupils widened, having never seen anything like this. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and touch the painted sky. Right as he was about to start levitating, a hand enveloped his, startling him. As he looked down, he saw your eyes staring up at his, a bright smile plastered on your face. He completely forgot what he had been so awe struck by, his entire focus now lying on you and your entire soul.

Your wave began to tangle around his, creating a pretty violet tone that radiated comfort and peace. And at that moment, he knew one thing: no matter how forbidden this relationship, these meetings or they were, he would never stop fighting for you.

Abby Saja

💪 to be fair, I‘m stuck between him being a really loud person and him being a rather gentle, quiet person

💪 would probably help you out with a demon you were just fighting and then ask you if you could meet up some random night

💪 if you came, he‘d be like a big happy golden retriever and if you didn’t, he‘d wait until you come

💪 when you first met with him, he was very cocky, constantly flexing his muscles to impress you

💪 got a little bold one night and staright up confessed, while you were staring at him like this :O

💪 always greets you with hugs whenever you show up, trying to show you that he enjoys your company

💪 either takes you to cinemas, 24/7 open stores or teleports you to wherever you want to go

💪 sometimes waits for you outside on your balcony, watching you as you lock your door and put some folded clothes onto your bed as a makeshift you

💪 one night he sent Magpie to you as an invitation to meet up. He never did it again after Magpie came back dressed like a horror story princess (Jinu yelled at him for over an hour)

Movie Night:

The soft crunches of popcorn can be heard somewhere in the local cinema of Seoul, silent chatter sometimes souding in the distance. Your head was leanded on the shoulder of your boyfriend, both of your eyes focused on the giant screen that displays the movie you were watching. Sighing quietly, your focus began to shift from the screen to the person sitting next to you, quiet sniffles coming from him. Your eyes lock onto his face, seeing tears fall slide down. He jolts slightly as a tissue wipes across his face, his eyes finding yours as you look at him fondly. His face turns a deep shade of crimson, quickly wiping away the leftover tears and acting like he never got sentimental. You chuckled lightly, shaking your head as the both of you continued watching whatever movie was playing in the cinema, just happy to be with one another.

About an hour later, the both of you hug, his arms enveloping your chest and waist whilst yours hang around his neck. He presses his lips to yours, a tender kiss meant as a good night. You sigh dreamily into his lips, your arms tightening around his form, trying to pull yourself impossibly closer to him. Feeling his chest vibrate against yours, you can’t help but laugh aswell, not caring about being caught, just caring about the current moment.

His form cradles yours as you lay down on your bed, your body starting to shut down as it drifts off into a deep slumber. You feel fingers brushing through your hair, the feeling of warmth and safety surrounding you like a peaceful bubble. Abby watches as your breathing slows, your expression peaceful and content.

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself alone in your bed. Just as you were about to feel saddened, you find a little card on your bedside table, a handwritten message by Abby. Your smile reaches your eyes as you read it, placing it against your chest as you close your eyes, suddenly feeling better than you ever have before, the sadness completely erased.

Mystery Saja

❔ he invited you to meet up with him at the fan signing event, sliding a small envelope into your pocket

❔ every time you two meet up, you are either in an abandoned building, in a field of flowers or just in his room

❔ he waits outside of your balcony each night, always making sure to bring something he‘s sure you‘ll like

❔ while in his room, the two of you just cuddle or read a book, enjoying eachothers company

❔ whenever he feels like it, he lets you style his hair and other times he styles yours

❔ most of your meet ups consist of cuddles, you being the big spoon and him being the small spoon

❔ at first, the two of you went to public areas, but you quickly scrapped that idea when all he did was bark or growl at people getting to close to you

❔ Zoey caught you two redhanded one time, yet instead of snitching on you, she began fangirling, now being your nr1 supporter and fanclub leader

❔ sometimes you two stay on your balcony, a blanket draped across your bodies as you talked to eachother or simply stared at the night sky

❔ like I said in my hc, he‘s very observant, so he always brings you to places he‘s sure you‘ll grow to like

A blood moon night

You hum quietly to yourselt, kicking your legs as you stared out the window. Tonight was a blood moon's night, the sky painted in a deep ombre of violet and dark blue. You held a notebook in your hand, scribbling down your thoughts and doodles of the blood moon. On your lap sat your favorite plushie, pressed closely to your lower abdomen (or chest, depending on the size). Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you listened to the noises surrounding you, before a soft tap on the glass door of the balcony disrupted your peace. You opened your eyes, seeing your boyfriend standing behind the door, your favorite flowers in one hand while the other lazily flexes its fingers.

A soft breeze swiped through the room as you silently opened the door, staring at your boyfriend in mild confusion, to which he just smiled fondly. His hand creeps up to your waist, tugging you to his side before you two suddenly disappear in a soft pink puff of smoke.

When the smoke clears, your eyes meet a giant Willow Tree, multiple flowers surrounding it as a picnic blanket lays at the root of the tree. You gasp softly, a pink hue covering your cheeks. Mystery smiles softly, gently pressing a kiss to your temple. "I thought this would be a good place to watch the blood moon.. Is it okay?" Your lips wobble slightly as you throw yourself onto him, both of you now laying in the flower field. "Are you kidding me?! It's perfect! I love it so much.." His breath shudders as your lips meet his, his eyes closing softly despite being covered by his bangs. Ah, how much he loves his human sweetheart.

Romance Saja

💘 I don’t think he cares about being caught, so you two also meet up at the evening

💘 always takes you on a shopping spree whenever he feels like it

💘 you once found a sappy love letter hanging on your balcony door, asking to meet up. When you found out it was from Romance, you weren’t suprised

💘 whenever you two meet up in the evening, you just say that you‘re going shopping and ask if they want anything. It‘s not a full lie

💘 this guy always makes the best poets about him, you, or you two and gives them to you when you meet

💘 at some point he‘d probably try to seduce you or use his charms to make you sway his way, but when that didn’t work he just let it happen naturally

💘 your secret meetings are just full on yap sessions most of the time, with a lot of flirting coming from him from time to time

💘 he sings to you whenever you feel down, casually dropping the best advice you have ever heard when asking for some

Shopping date:

Mira raises her eyebrow at you, suspiciously narrowing her eyes when you ask if they want anything. This was your fifth time this week going shopping.. What the hell were you doing?! Most of the time you don’t even get what they asked for. She just shakes her head, murmuring a 'no thanks' while the others stay oblivious to your shopping obsession.

When you arrive at the mall, you yelp lightly as you feel someone holding you up and spinning you around. Once you‘re back on your feet you wobble slightly, trying to regain your balance as your boyfriend laughs heartily, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. He takes your hand in his, dragging you inside. You look down at your other hand, finding another one of his poems folded neatly inside of it.

You two go to several clothing stores, each time buying a different set of clothes. Romance always does a fashion show, posing infront of the mirror and walking down the hallway like a runway model. Each time a flicker of joy or a laugh comes from you, his eyes find you, watching in fondness, love and glee.

While you may not come back with what the girls had wanted, they kept their mouths shut, not wanting to ruin your current mood. They loved it when your wave glowed so brightly it hurt their eyes to look at it.

Baby Saja

🌶️ he straight up shoved a card into your hands, leaving the event after

🌶️ hangs upside down like a bat whenever he waits for you on your balcony, using the railing as a support

🌶️ the meet ups are not consistent, sometimes they are once a week and sometimes they are everyday

🌶️ does not give a fuck if you two get caught. He loves you, so what?

🌶️ at first he avoided every attempt of affection, now he craves it but he‘ll never admit that

🌶️ if you feel like it, he‘ll share whatever snack he brought with you

🌶️ lets you read through his notebook, asking you what you think about the lyrics (he writes the lyrics of his rap parts)

🌶️ sometimes he just teleports into your room, lays next to you and says nothing

🌶️ please, for the love of god, never mention Gwi-Ma. Being hellborn means the voices are louder and more frequent than what made-demons experience. He‘d rather forget all about it than be reminded of the cause of his agony and suffering

🌶️ he loves train stations, haunted places and amusement parks, so expect to be there most of the time

🌶️ he‘s super lazy most of the time, so you two just teleport around the world instead of going there like normal people

Haunted Mansion Date:

"Baby, are you sure this place is safe?" You ask warily, your heart beating faster than it should. You fight literal demons!! Baby just shrugs casually, opening the doors, not even wincing as they creak loudly "Nah." You stop in your tracks, eyes widening. "Nah?! Baby that‘s the one thing I didn’t want to hear!!" You whisper shout, shaking his arm. He just grins lazily, walking into the haunted mansion with no care in the world. Immediately rushing to his side, you take his hand in yours, nervously chewing on your lower lip. What you don’t notice, is that Baby‘s cheeks glow a faint pink, his ears red.

Every step you take is a death sentence for you, especially since every step either creaks or opens a hidden trapdoor. By now, you‘ve grown used to such dates, but this was your first ever haunted mansion date with him. You thought it was just spooky, not really haunted!! How do you know it‘s really haunted? Just ask the flying chairs and moving statues!

Just when you were starting to relax, get bolder and have more confidence, Baby decided to joke around with his surroundings. You hadn’t even noticed that Baby had disappeared, taking a few more steps inside the kitchen. Your hands graze the stove, the counter and a few leftover plates and glasses. On the walls hung beautiful velvet curtains, although they were ripped and had several holes because of moths and such, their patterns remained intact and awe striking. Your entire body froze when a hand suddenly appeared on your shoulder, your head slowly turning to look at where it came from. When your eyes met that of a ghoul, your heart stopped for a moment.

Baby snickered quietly to himself as he heard your fearful screams, barely containing himself from laughing loudly. That is, until he heard screams of pain, not of fear. Real agony, misery and pain. He immediately bolted into the kitchen, seeing your bloodied body laying on the table, a bloodied knife in the hand of the makeshift puppet-ghoul. His eyes widened, quickly scurrying to your side as he began to panic. "No no no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!! It was just meant to be a joke!" Sobs began to escape from his mouth, his hands cradling your face.

Your laughter filled the room, his tear struck eyes opening instantly as he looked at you. Wiping some tears of joy from your eyes, you smiled smugly, patting his shoulder. "Pranks aren’t always as funny as they may seem, huh?" He stared at you motionlessly before standing up, scoffing silently as he walked out of the haunted mansion, wiping away all remains of his former sadness.

In the end of the day, the both of you learned not to prank eachother again, atleast not like that.

A/N: I couldn’t help myself from writing the prank in Baby‘s part. I‘m tired and I thought it‘d be funny and a good story to share with everyone. Moral of the story, not every prank is as harmless as it may seem.

Btw sorry for drifting away from the main plot, I kind of got distracted and liked the idea of secret dates hehe..

Hope you enjoyed!!

- ❥ℛℴ𝓈ℯ♡︎

#kpdh #jinu saja x reader #jinu x reader #baby saja x reader #baby saja #mystery x reader #mystery saja #mystery saja x reader #abby x reader #abby saja #abby saja x reader #saja boys x reader #x reader #romance x reader #romance #romance saja #xjangmii

132 notes · View notes

silkonagravestone · 3 days ago

Note

I saw your post about writers block and I saw you write for Tim Bradford. I was thinking about a really fluffy fic, about Tim not telling R about him having to do overtime at the station. Take the ending wherever you want <3

Love your writing BTW

omg stop i love thisss 🥹

Not Even a Text

Pairings: Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: mild angst, happy ending, fluff

Summary: Tim’s late and silent, and you’re trying not to worry. You know work comes first, but the quiet still hurts. A cold dinner, some tension, and a simple apology that brings you back to what really matters.

A/N: hey y’all! this is my first fic and feedback is greatly appreciated!

You were used to the job coming first.

Married to a man like Tim Bradford, disciplined, sharp, dependable; you knew the badge didn’t come off just because the clock struck five. You admired that about him, honestly. That sense of duty. That unshakable integrity.

But tonight?

Tonight, you were still standing in the kitchen at 8:07 PM, staring at two untouched plates of cold salmon, his favorite, while your phone buzzed with nothing but silence.

No missed calls. No texts. Just one dim light above the stove, casting soft shadows over the set table.

You glanced at the door. Then at the salmon. Then back at the door.

Nothing.

You sighed and picked up your phone, thumb hovering before you finally typed the message you didn’t want to send.

you alive??

No typing bubble.

You hated how fast your mind spiraled. Not just with worry, but frustration. Because you’d asked him. This morning, over half-asleep coffee and a quick kiss, you’d asked, “You home on time tonight?” And he’d nodded, said something like, “No late calls. Just paperwork.”

Paperwork doesn’t take three extra hours. And paperwork sure as hell doesn’t stop you from sending a two-second text.

You stared at the plate again. Maybe he’d walk in any minute now, muttering apologies, holding a half-dead orchid from the gas station, trying to charm his way out of it. Maybe he got caught up. Maybe..

Your phone buzzed. You snatched it up.

Lucy Chen.

You answered before the second ring.

“Lucy?”

“Hey. I’m so sorry to bug you, but… is Tim home?”

You blinked. “Uh. No. Why?”

“I was supposed to swap a form with him after patrol. He never showed. I figured he got stuck in records. You haven’t heard from him?”

“Nope. Not a word.”

Lucy paused. “He might’ve picked up overtime again. He’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Your jaw clenched. “He has?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you said again, sharper this time. “Thanks, Luce.”

You hung up, stared at the screen, then at the food.

Then you quietly put the plates away, shut the fridge, and turned off the light.

He got home at 9:42 PM.

The front door creaked open softly, like he was trying not to wake you, but you were already standing there. Arms crossed. Wearing his hoodie and nothing else. Your hair still clipped up from cooking.

You’d waited.

Of course you’d waited.

He stepped in, looking exhausted. Black uniform shirt rolled to the elbows, badge still clipped, juggling a thermos and a radio. When he saw you, he paused.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I was never asleep.”

His gaze narrowed slightly. “You waited up?”

“I made dinner.”

“…Shit.”

He set the thermos down and took a few tentative steps closer. You didn’t move. He knew that look—neutral, calm. Way worse than yelling.

“You didn’t text,” you said quietly. “Didn’t call. Nothing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. There was a robbery off Pico. They needed more hands.”

“And you volunteered.”

“Yeah.”

“Without telling me.”

“I didn’t know it’d run that late.”

You scoffed and turned toward the kitchen. He followed.

You opened the fridge, took out the plates, and slid one into the microwave like it was any other night.

He lingered in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to blow you off.”

“I’m not mad you worked late, Tim. I’m mad you didn’t think I deserved to know.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Isn’t it?” You turned, voice rising. “You tell Lucy. You tell Grey. You tell everyone at the station. But you couldn’t text your wife?”

The microwave hummed behind you, the only sound in the room.

Tim let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You laughed once, short and bitter. “It’s not about the damn food, Tim. I just-god! Do you know how many nights I’ve waited, wondering if you’re stuck in a meeting or bleeding in an alley somewhere?”

His expression softened, and that, somehow-made it worse.

You hated that he didn’t mean to hurt you. You hated how he looked at you, guilty and tender and tired, and still didn’t quite get it.

“I’m not trying to shut you out,” he said, stepping closer. “I just… I get tunnel vision when I’m on shift. I forget. But it doesn’t mean you’re not on my mind.”

You shook your head. “It’s not about remembering. It’s about choosing. You didn’t choose me tonight.”

The microwave dinged.

He didn’t say a word.

You handed him the plate anyway.

He didn’t sleep much that night.

You felt it in the way his hand grazed your hip under the covers, soft, unsure. Testing the waters. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t lean into him either. Not yet.

At 2:07 AM, his voice broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

You were awake. But you didn’t answer.

By morning, he was gone.

The only sign he’d been there was the half-made bed, a steaming thermos of coffee by your keys.

And a note.

Dinner’s on me tonight. Home by 6. I promise. –T

He kept his promise.

You were pulling your hair into a bun when the door opened at 5:56 PM.

“Is that an on-time Tim Bradford I hear?” you called out.

He stepped into view, lifting a brown paper bag in the air. “And bearing gifts.”

You smirked. “Wait. Is that… Giovanni’s?”

“Nothing but the best.”

He followed you into the kitchen and started unpacking: fresh pasta, garlic bread, salad with extra olives; he didn’t miss a single detail.

You watched him quietly. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I did,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Because I was wrong. And because I hate making you feel like you’re anything less than the most important part of my life.”

He took a step closer. “I forget how much I expect you to just… understand. Even when I don’t give you anything to work with. That’s not fair. You deserve better.”

Your chest tightened.

You stepped in and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“I don’t need fancy,” you whispered. “I just need to know I matter.”

He cupped your cheek and kissed you. Slow, steady, sure.

“You matter more than anything,” he murmured.

And this time, you believed him.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford #fanfic #reader insert #the rookie #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #angst #it’s 1 am and i’m living off 6 alanis #soft tim bradford #domestic fluff #silkonagravestone

126 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 1 day ago

Note

Hi! Are there any more snek Alec hidden in your stash?

hi! i did not so i wrote some! last part here!

it took longer than expected because it took me two hours for my writing program to start working. including several resets and restarts and reinstalling. (and now that i can use my preferred program, it's really hard to use a different one. the 'tism is like 'no program. no write.')

hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

Alec really can’t compare the few days he’s been with Magnus to anything he’s experienced in the entirety of his life yet.

Magnus seems to understand Alec’s needs and instincts with an intuitiveness and genuine care that Alec’s never been met with before. He doesn’t mind Alec coiling around him while he sleeps, understands that Alec prefers to soak in the tub as a snake rather than take a shower as human, and seems entirely unbothered by the fact that Alec can eat a grizzly bear shifter without hesitation or it bothering his digestion.

Beyond that, he’s genuinely admiring of how Alec looks at all times. Compliments and flattering aren’t things Alec ever thought he would be susceptible to, but when Magnus croons to him and calls him beautiful. Or runs frame-wreathed fingers down his scales and remakes on his gorgeous patterning and smooth his scales are. Or when Magnus fingertips press unhesitatingly to Alec’s fangs, uncaring of how sharp they and the venom there.

Alec doesn’t want to go back to the Institute.

There is a part of him that would be content to stay here, with Magnus like this. Especially because guarding Magnus is both relaxing and intriguing and better yet, Alec rarely has to be in human form. There have currently been no disadvantages and considering that Magnus has just stepped from the showering to scoop Alec up — from where he’s been submerged in a bath with snake-safe potions — Alec can’t think of there being any issues he would truly care about.

Not when Magnus is drying him off with magic and warm hands and then letting Alec coil around his naked torso until Alec’s head rests on the hollow of Magnus’ neck and Magnus summons a robe to cover himself and Alec. It’s hardly uncommon is the thing and Magnus doesn’t seem to care that Alec is leeching away all his warmth. Instead he’s continually rewarding Alec with pets full of warm, magical heat and not only that, he’s changed his nail polish to match the shimmering colors of Alec’s scales.

It’s the kind of a claim that Alec is pleased by, but wouldn’t exactly know how to ask for himself. That Magnus simply did it has him blushing beneath his scales. His cheeks would be completed covered by scales along with the bridge of his nose if he were human. Thankfully it’s much easier to hide away shyness and delight as a snake.

Even if somethings can’t be completely hidden.

—

Having Alexander snug and coiled around him is more comforting than Magnus would care to admit. There is an intimacy about it that reassures him and soothes him. Alexander seems to be well… he’s hardly slow on the romancing. But Magnus is aware that some need things taken in different times and that’s fine with him.

As long as the message is made.

Magnus will not react pleasantly if someone else tries to stake a claim on what is already his. There isn’t enough information on shadowhunter mating and courting rituals or gestures. Otherwise Magnus would ensure he completed every single one he could.

Just to make a point.

However from the way Alexander coils about him with ease — yet clearly finding out himself what is and isn’t comfortable and what does or doesn’t work — Magnus doesn’t think his boy does this with just anyone.

Yet Magnus hesitates to ask, because on the rare occasions that Alexander can converse with him, Magnus is focused on other, more important things.

Like ways to get Alexander to stay human for longer.

Alexander has been absolutely no help in the matter. There isn’t a single thing he can think of that he prefers to do as a human compared to a snake. Magnus has asked him. Multiple times. Even going so far as to try guessing things that Alexander might not have thought of or tried.

Nothing has worked.

Until this morning when Magnus — fed up with a lack of contact — reached out while they discussed Institute protocol and forcibly tugged Alexander completely into his lap.

He’d been pressing close but Magnus is going to take what he can get, while there’s still time.

“Continue.” Magnus says, as if nothing has changed and then he finally gets one hand under Alexander’s shirt — pressing his palm and fingers against deliciously cool flesh — and curling the other one through thick, soft hair that he’s been wanting to touch for days.

Alexander doesn’t continue.

He seems slightly stunned, but that’s not why he’s quiet. He’s swaying slightly in place, not enough to dislodge Magnus’ touch, but as if he’s both overwhelmed and pleased at the same time. Magnus continues, scratching his hand over Alexander’s torso and lower belly and then pausing there, letting heat gather in his palm until Alexander gives a very human sigh and slumps against him.

“Saaa nice.”

Magnus is told on a hissing exhale and Alexander’s double eyelids blink at him in contentment. Alexander seems blissed out by the touch and Magnus dares to nuzzle Alexander’s cheek and receives a cheek rubbing against his own casually.

It’s the most contact he’s had with Alexander as a human and it lasts for nearly half an hour before Alexander falls asleep… turning into a snake draped over Magnus when he does.

AN:

magnus: wait all he needs is cuddles? don't mind if i do... why is he a snake? why couldn't he stay human to sleep? WHAT DO I NEED TO UNLOCK TO GET THAT?

alec: wow. this is. amazing. better than heated rocks. or heated blankets. or heating runes. or...

magnus: thank you darling, wonderful compliments. have truly never had such eloquent comparisons before

alec: *happy hissing* (i realize snakes don't hiss when happy but someone with more varied emotions would definitely find a way to hiss happily)

Alec does go back to the Institute. Mirai would drag him back. Izzy would rat him out. There are so many reasons why he has to go back. And he is sad. He would love the Clave to kick him out. then he could be snake with magnus always and sometimes human for cuddles.

Alec is aware that sex exists as a form of procreation and recreation and since he's not interested in either form atm, has not yet realized sex can be a thing he and magnus do for intimacy and cuddles and warmth and etc.

Alec is just: sounds messy

at this point

also unreliable narrators.

alec has no idea that magnus would love for him to be human more. because magnus isn't making it alec's problem or guilt tripping him etc. he's going to bribe alec into being human and get him to want it naturally or he know it won't to anything helpful.

magnus: i'm going to make him want to be human

izzy: ... if you accomplish that you're a god

later izzy: i worship at the altar of magnus

Magnus: no thank you, your brother worships me enough just fine. and i don't think he's the sharing type.

izzy: ... yeah. now that you mention it. i'd rather not get eaten. i humbly excommunicate myself from your worship. good luck with ser noodle.

alec getting tipsy for the first time and just... falling down.

Magnus: ... alexander?

alec: stupid legs. want tail.

Magnus: ... are you too drunk to shift?

Alec wriggling on the ground angrily glaring at magnus who cannot possibly be expected to take any of this seriously: tail. legs wrong. bad. *lots of unintelligible hissing*

Magnus: and we're going to bed. immediately. tucks a very human and very angry about it alexander in bed.

Alec trying to bite his blanket to pull it up and magnus is just watching going: this is what hands are for darling

Alec: *hissing* except it turns into tired grumbling and Magnus just, pulls him close and tucks him against himself and pulls the comforter over them both and Alec is all pleased happy content.

Magnus: i can't believe two glasses of champagne dropped him like a fainting goat

later someone compliments alec and alec is just like 'only magnus is allowed to compliment me!'

he's definitely the kind to, when he realizes he likes flattery (from one specific person) hate ever getting it from anyone else. like before he just ignored it. now he actively loathes it.

how dare you.

complimenting me belongs to magnus.

i will eat you.

also magnus doesn't understand alec's instincts 100%, but he does get them to a degree most don't and he also is happy to indulge them. which no one else is willing.

Mirai: Commander it made sense for you to exchange protection for services for this one incident. it does not make sense for you to become his permanent entourage and protection. the clave would riot.

Alec: but

Magnus: i'll just come visit you darling.

Alec who wants to just be able to coil around Magnus and be a snake and doesn't care where it happens or who it happens in front of.

Alec: sure. anytime. all the time. every time. right now?

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #shifting scales #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #shadowhunters

49 notes · View notes

genshingorlsrevengeance · 1 day ago

Note

ahem

testing, testing

Alva. I don't even know what you'd write, just Alva.

(GFL2) A Quiet Moment with Alva

Fear not, anon! For you speak to the biggest AN-94 simp, I can conjure any content with her on demand!

You couldn't help but yawn as the light came through the windows of the Elmo, beaming directly onto your face as you reluctantly woke up.

Throwing the blanket off your legs, you leaned up and remained still for a few moments, taking the few extra seconds to keep your eyes closed...Until you felt the blanket gently shift back up to your legs, feeling your bed shift from the weight.

(Alva) "Good morning, (Y/N)."

Alva was dressed with a pair of what appeared to be shorts, alongside a casual dress.

(Y/N) "Mmm...N-Ninety...Alva?"

Truth be told, it still felt a little weird to call your girlfriend anything else than what you had been for the past ten years. Though her being here right now also still felt like a dream.

The bed evened itself out as Alva laid you back down onto the bed, your eyes opening to a gentle smile. A smile your heart ached for so long to have again.

If she didn't lean in to kiss your forehead, you would have been convinced you were still dreaming, missing her.

By pure luck or some hand of fate, Alva was back in your life, and frankly you didn't really care how.

(Alva) "It is still early. There are a few more hours until you need to wake up for your duties. From what the Commander has been telling me, you need the rest."

(Y/N) "What about you?"

Arms caressing your head and shifting it to her lap was Alva's immediate answer, followed by a soft giggle.

(Alva) "I am fine. I have rested plenty, thanks to you."

You wanted to stay awake longer to keep talking to her.

Every fiber of your body struggled to not close your eyes again, to make up for so much lost time. And yet, Alva didn't mind, slightly tilting her head at the sight of you drifting off again.

(Alva) "...It's okay, (Y/N). I'll be here when you wake up."

Your eyes felt so heavy, and with a few deep breaths, your eyes closed once more, feeling her hand brush your hair back.

Summoning the last of your strength, your hand reached out for her, to which she gladly grabbed and squeezed your hand.

Alva's smile grew ever so slightly wider, enjoying the peaceful sight of your sleeping face as the morning sun slowly rose through the window.

...

You woke up to a very foreign sensation on your cheek...The sensation was there again, causing your eyes to open.

Alva had lost her smile as she attempted to wake you: her method being...

...Poking you in the cheek.

(Alva) "Ah, you are awake. It is now only an hour before your presence is required in the Ops Room."

Her hand remained suspended near you, as if not knowing what to do in her awkward pose. To that, you took her hand, and kissed the tips of her fingers, to which the T-Doll blushed at.

Even after all these years, Alva still looked nervous as ever, causing you to laugh quietly as you embraced her.

(Y/N) "Thank you, love."

She didn't take long to return your embrace, her hug feeling much more confident than it ever had been.

And a little needy, given how tightly she returned it.

Though, you didn't mind at all as you squeezed her back, both of you silently enjoying the embrace before finally pushing her away, albeit reluctantly.

(Y/N) "Help me get dressed?"

Alva's blush intensified for a moment before nodding, helping you take off your shirt, her arms snaking their way around your stomach as she hugged you from behind.

(Y/N) "...How long until I'm needed?"

(Alva) "Fifty-three minutes, to be exact."

(Y/N) "Then I think we can stay like this for a few more minutes...Would you like to?"

You felt Alva lean closer into you before kissing your shoulder.

(Alva) "...I would."

The two ended up being late ten minutes, flustering Alva to no end.

If the Commander got angry about it, then he could deduct it from your pay.

Your time with Alva was worth every single penny, and he probably knew that too, given how lax he seemed to be when you entered with the blushing Russian T-Doll by your side.

#girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline x reader #girls' frontline headcanons #an 94 gfl #an 94 x reader

46 notes · View notes

venusbyline · 9 hours ago

Text

The Blood of the Lamb (2/?)

previous chapter

— summary: During a few weeks, you thought that the idea of getting in one of your late father's cars and driving without any sensible planning to the distant farm where your uncles lived might be a good idea. You thought that their invitation for you to stay there for a while had been out of pure, genuine kindness. Then you chose to ignore any suspicious situation that could have prevented you from being there, almost on the verge of death and thrown in the middle of the forest.

— pairing: vampire!Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader x vampire!Aegon II Targaryen

— type: dark, smut, 1930s AU

— chapter's warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, human!reader, suspense/thriller chapter, eventual smut, accidental voyeurism, rape/non-con, rough vaginal sex, doggy style position, piss kink, sadism, degradation, blood and violence, dysfunctional family, mention of murders, characters deaths referenced, child death referenced, past domestic violence, implied depression, implied PTSD, minor Aemond Targaryen/random girl, sexism, dark content, 1930s AU/vampire AU. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— old slangs used: Remittance man (someone paid by his family to stay away), Clams (money), Cooze (pussy).

— author's notes¹: Hey 💕💕 I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm thinking sm about reader's future dynamics with Aemond and Aegon, and also the differences between these two dynamics. I don't have a favourite pair in my mind yet hahah but I think I'll like to write them.

— author's notes²: To help you not get so confused while reading... Jacaerys is 23, Lucerys is 20, the reader is 16, Joffrey is 12, Aegon III is 7 and Viserys II was 6 (obviously I didn't follow the same age difference as in the books). Daemon was their stepfather and Aegon III and Viserys II were his biological sons and reader's half-brothers.

— author's notes³: The Blood of the Lamb is a series involving vampirism, Targcest and sexual master/slave themes.

— author's notes⁴: Each chapter will contain its own trigger warnings.

❥ Aemond masterlist • Aegon II masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"Yesterday, Uncle Aegon told me he wasn't surprised that Daemon was an aggressive man. He said it was common thing about veterans of The Great War."

The large kitchen had been completely silent for a few hours until it was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Jacaerys, dressed only in dark trousers and some white socks warming his feet, though that morning felt warm enough that wearing his typical white shirts would not be necessary.

You looked away from him as he approached a bit, dipping his index finger into the pitcher of milk you had heated for everyone as soon as you woke. He grimaced then, realizing it was not hot — at least not in the temperature he wanted and expected it to be.

Wiping his damp finger on the skin of your shoulder, Jacaerys stared at you again, waiting for you to respond with something. Anything.

When no answer came, he sighed, frustration clear in his tone. "You can't ignore me forever."

Reluctantly, you turned to face him with an empty expression, licking your own scarred lower lip due to the recent habit.

You considered responding directly to his last sentence, but chose to focus on what he said about Aegon's declaration first. "I don't know... Daddy also went to the war and he was a good person anyway."

Jacaerys let out a low scoff. "Funny you should say that, since he died when you were still a four-year-old annoying brat."

You said nothing. On one hand, he was right, after all. On the other hand, you did not want to get into that constant matter again. Persisting in bringing it up would be such a stupidity. Too stupid just like that damn gas stoves that took forever to reheat the milk like Jacaerys ordered you to do.

Perhaps Aegon and Aemond did not use it that often.

"Your older brothers still avoid me like I'm some kind of remittance man."

You stood in the middle of the guest room he had given you specifically days ago. Now, you were mentally preparing yourself to work up the courage to go to sleep. Although the farm was large enough for everyone to share separate bedrooms, the initial plan was for at least little Aegon to sleep with you in an attempt to help him with his new — but frequent — nightmares. However, when your own macabre dreams began to torment your sleep more than anyone expected, Jacaerys decided that his youngest brother should share a room with Joffrey and you share a separate room. All alone with your mind.

Like a injured little animal being separated from its own family so as not to pass its disease on to others.

"You alright, niece?"

Unlike Aemond, who spoke to no one but his older brother most of the time, Aegon stopped by your room several times over the past few nights, making sure you were truly comfortable in their dwelling.

And how could you not be? Your brothers would be safe there for a while. Having food, water, a place to sleep... And two familiar — and perhaps trustworthy — faces.

You should be grateful for the rest of your life.

And yet you could not help the growing nausea inside your stomach. "I am, uncle. Just feeling kind of sick, I guess..." you forced a soft smile at Aegon, interrupting him before he had a chance to question you further about it. "What did you say about my brothers?"

You mentally thanked Aegon for the physical distance he was putting between the two of you at that moment. He had been a good uncle during your childhood, but that had been years ago, and the discomfort you felt around most males made the distinction between rational caution and distrust pointless difficult to understand.

And the second feeling was exactly what sped up your heart. Aegon shortening that distance, keeping it to mere steps... "I said your brothers avoid me all the time, even when they're spending time here," his blue eyes darkened as they roamed over the dried blood on your lip, then dropped to the white nightgown you wore, too thin for the night breeze that blew in through the half-open windows. "Guess I should buy you new clothes tomorrow before my shitty work, doll."

With heated cheeks, you quickly shook your head, not wanting to be a burden to him and Aemond. "There's no need to waste your clams on me, uncle. I'm fine wearing my nightgown."

Before you could had time to react, Aegon's hand landed on the collar of your nightgown, his thumb tracing the cotton fabric. "I won't let my own niece get sick and die like a little lamb in the middle of nowhere. It's important that you stay healthy."

The nighttime noises sounded even louder on the farm than you could ever imagine. It was not only the sounds of the shrill cicadas or the breeze hitting the windows if you had not carefully closed them right.

The noises there were a thousand times more intense, caused not only by existences of insects but also by the existences of bats, crows... And, of course, the animals themselves at the barn.

You tried to convince yourself that this torment would end soon. You tried to convince yourself that being sleepless in the wee hours could be better than sleeping and having such dark dreams. You wanted your mind free of thoughts involving anything that sent a shiver down the spine: the murders your brothers had committed; the violent abuse committed by Daemon for so many years; the longing for your little brother Viserys; the end of the fraternal bond between you and your eldest brother; the memory of the birth that ended tragically beneath a garden beside your real house...

You tried to tell yourself that anything could be better than sleeping and dreaming of your own misfortune.

And that optimism lasted only a few minutes, dissipating already as you heard a door open in the kitchen.

"Uncle Aegon?" noticing that he was the first person you considered calling, you felt foolish for not calling one of your brothers first. So, as soon as you opened the bedroom door, you tried again with a different name. "Jace?"

You waited a few more minutes, standing in the hallway like you used to do when Daemon came home drunk. Sometimes standing there, waiting for Jacaerys to show up and save you from the worst of the beatings, shifting the focus of the fight to him, even if it meant waking up with a lot bruises the next day.

It was a noble act, a testament to how far an older brother would go to protect his sister.

You never imagined that accidentally pushing him to the limit of his fraternal love for you would make your lives a living hell.

If only you had not let Cregan take you home that night...

"Uncle Aemond? Is that you?" the soft call grew louder, almost frightened. You could not tell if you were becoming paranoid or not, though you heard footsteps outside the house loud and clear, right next to where the kitchen door had probably opened.

The path led to the barn, from where those animal sounds grew louder and louder.

No one but you left the guest rooms, as if they were so comfortable in their new beds that they could not even wake up without sunlight streaming through the cracks in the windows during the mornings.

If it were up to your own frustration, you would close the damn kitchen and scold each of your brothers, and even your uncles for not hearing your calls. Your concern for your little brother Aegon was stronger than your frustration, though.

The idea that he might also be unable to sleep after another nightmare about Viserys' accidental murder broke your heart. The boy was not a disobedient child most of the time and he would only do something like that if he were in a state of mental torment similar to yours — which you had no doubt.

"Aeg? It's me, angel! It's your sister!" your not-so-quiet calls echoed down the barn path, searching for any sign of your little brother and hoping to see that small creature with his messy, straight hair.

It had been a few minutes since you had left through the kitchen door, mentally cursing your ancestors for building a barn so far from the side entrance of the farm, especially from its main entrance as well.

In your racing mind, your thoughts oscillated between worry that your younger brother might be alone in that darkness and the middle of nowhere; relief at the sudden silence of the animals after you started walking nearby; and surprise at realizing that your uncles kept not one, but two goats in separate pens and facing the barn's huge entrance.

You were about to rush in and shout your brother's name again when you heard heavy breathing sounds from the back of the dimly lit spot.

Instead, your mouth snapped shut as you realized what those sounds were.

Not just breathing sounds. High-pitched, whimpering sounds even. Sounds of... skin slapping against skin.

"Fucking weak whore can't stop pissing on my cock..."

Oh, you knew very well who owned that voice. You knew very well who owned that low groan and whose dark chuckle echoed off the long wooden walls after a random slap sounded.

You did not recognize the owner of those feminine cries that echoed next. Despite that, you found yourself wondering who that young girl could be. The moonlight gave you a hazy but yet considerably good view of who she looked like. Dark hair covered her face, which was pressed against the floor by one of the man's hands. Her attractive hips and breasts bounced with every deep movement of the man on top of her...

Not any man, though.

Aemond Targaryen. Your uncle Aemond, his other heavy palm slapping the woman's buttocks so he could slap her core right away. "Your disgusting cooze is still dripping into me like a damn fountain," his pace sped up, eliciting more screams from the whimpering girl. Shs seemed to be trying to get up at all costs, mumbling words that would never be understandable if Aemond continued thrusting into her with such violence. Weak murmurs begging you to help her.

"You're enjoying the sight, aren't you, doll?"

If it were not for that, you would have stood there in complete shock, watching everything and not even considering leaving. You would have watched every second of their aggressive sex, like an innocent child witnessing two animals mating for the first time.

If it were not for that particular nickname, you would not have darted your wide eyes to him or noticed the amount of blood dripping from the girl's cunt when Aemond pulled his thick cock out of her. You would not have looked up at your uncle in a mixture of disgust and confusion at whatever he was doing to that poor girl. You would not have taken several steps back and away, seeing his smirking at the expense of your fear.

And you definitely would not have screamed loudly. after you tripped over an injured lamb on the ground full of hay, the little animal bleating in pain.

46 notes · View notes

alexa-yukiyu · 1 day ago

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you can do a trans male reader thats like maybe 12 or 13 with whitebeard pirates? Basically he realized that he is actually a boy and wants to tell everyone but Is way to scared to since it's always being commented on that he's the only daughter of whitebeard, and eventually everyone notices him acting weird and kinda recoiling when being called any type of fem terms. And you can shape the rest of the fic from that and of course if you don't feel comfortable writing this you can just ignore me!

Unsecretly Secrets ft Izou and Marco

A/N So, I got kinda down because I finished my hw in the afternoon and then had the afternoon free but I felt guilty I was just lazing around so I wrote a bit I din’t think I was actually gonna finish it but here we are! I want to thank @quinloki for betaing and making sure everything was respectful and while we’re at it go check em out, he’s actually doing an event right now so check em out (but mind the warnings and the uh, the different genres we write 😂)

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers both!

Consider Buying me a coffee!

Dokucha winced as they finished putting on his binder, watching himself on the mirror and frowning at the harsh way it tightened on his body.

"I outgrew it..." he huffed. It was beginning to become slightly painful as the months went by. With only one piece at his disposal and a body rapidly growing, it was only to be expected that this would eventually happen. Still, there was no way he would just toss it, not without any way or even assurance that he could get his hands on another one.

"Well, it's no use mulling about it," he waved off, popping a small pill from the container on his bedside table. He grabbed the nearest shirt to him and threw it on as made his way out of his cabin, pausing to take a deep breath, coming short of air at the sudden movements; he shrugged this off and glanced at the hallway, smiling at the pair standing there.

"Morning," he called, throwing Ace and Izou a smile as he joined the two in their walk to the mess hall.

"Was beginning to think you weren't gonna wake up at all!" Ace grinned, ruffling their head.

"Agh, cut it out!" he grumbled, trying to wrestle his older brother's hands out,

"Dahahah, can't help teasing my sister in the early morning! You're my favorite one after all," he joked, retrieving his hand

Dokucha lifted his shoulders in discomfort at his words, but decided not to comment, something that Ace and Izou noticed on the boy. Izou would take note of this reaction, but Ace misunderstood the action for a different emotion.

"Ha? Are you grumpy this early in the morning? Usually, you would already be snapping at me, 'I'm you're only sister'" he mocked

"Ha, I'm just hungry," he called, trying to laugh it off. An idea came to mind as he watched his brothers look at him suspiciously.

"If you're any slower, I'm going to eat all the food!" he exclaimed as he began running down the hallway, ignoring the odd tightening in his chest at the movement.

"Like hell you will!" Ace growled as he took after the teen, leaving behind a pensive Izou behind.

Dokucha groaned as they happily munched on another piece of bacon and turned to the chef.

"Thatch-nii!" He called happily, watching as the man glanced up at them briefly

"Please teach me how to make the bacon this way! It's so good," he called as they grabbed another piece.

"No way," he brushed off

"Hah?! Why not? Come on! I want to be able to make it when you're busy doing other things! Plus, we don't have it much"

"That's why! I know ya, Dokucha, and I know ya will sneak behin my back and make it at ungodly hours, it's not good for ya to eat too much of it," he admonished

"So ya can throw ya hissy fit but as a chef I will not be givin' ya somethin' I know will harm ya, not to mention I ain' lookin for a lecture" He brushed off as he absentmintedly gestured to Marco sitting with Izou nearby giving a nod of approval to the chef.

"Dokucha, I better not see you eating more of that than what he gives you-yoi. He knows what he's doing, and he gives you the portions that make it healthy. Any more, and you risk spending the night in the clinic," Marco piped in as he dug into his pineapple. Knowing how early the first mate was up and about, it wouldn't be surprising if he had his breakfast hours before, only stopping for his favorite snack.

"Okay," they grumbled, inhaling deeply. This prompted them to grab water from nearby and gulp it down.

"Slow down, kid," Fossa warned

"Sorry, I just got a little choked up, I guess." He grinned, wiping his mouth, missing the brief interaction between Izou and Marco. The former gently nudged the doctor and whispered something in his ear as they glanced at the snickering teen.

"Well, I'm off to do my chores!" He called as he stood up from the bench and made his way onto the deck.

"Don't overdue it, wouldn't want our girl to get hurt," Haruta jested

"Ha...will do," he grumbled as he made his way to the ropes, ignoring the questioning glances of his family, beginning to work on the knot, slightly dejected.

"Marcoooo," Dokucha drawled, extending the last syllables of the name teasingly as he made his way into his brother's medic bay.

"You called for me?" he asked, sending a questioning glance at Izou, who stood next to the man.

"Yes-yoi have a seat," he gestured to one of the nearby chairs

"Not on the medical bed this time? Am I in trouble?" he questioned, attempting to make it sound like a tease, but his tone betrayed his nervousness at the situation.

"Dokucha, I do hate to intervene without you bringing the subject first; however, I have noticed that it has begun to affect your health, and although I don't have any intention to put you in the spot, I cannot allow you to unknowingly put yourself at risk," Izou started

"W-What are you talking about?" he stuttered out, dread filling him

"Dokucha-yoi, Izou and I have begun to notice certain...choices that you have made that, although alone, are not a cause for concern, together they have put you at risk," Marco continued, pulling out a familiar set of pills and placing them on his desk within eye distance of the boy.

"I-I can explain," he muttered

"You don't have to-yoi"

"What?" he muttered, head snapping at the two, watching the gentle smiles that the two sent his way.

"Like I mentioned before, I hate to intervene so we will not intervene more than we have to and that includes giving you all the time you need, we just have to discuss some of the ways you express yourself and try to choose better options, one's that won't put you ar risk"

"You..know? And you don't care?" he questioned

"We do-yoi," Marco corrected, causing Dokucha's heart to plummet as he braced himself for the worst.

"We do care about you expressing yourself and being confident in being who you are," Izou stated as he kneeled in front of the shocked teen.

"You're not mad that I'm not a girl? B-But you guys have always said how much you loved having a little sister."

"We love having a younger sibling, a happy and confident one; you will always be our baby sibling, regardless of what gender you are; girl or boy, we still and will always love you."

"T-then?"

"You have been having trouble breathing, yes?" Marco questioned, though the way he had uttered it made it seem more of a statement rather than a question

"Yes, but how did you know?"

"Dokucha, you are talking to commanders of the Whitebeard crew, a doctor and a sniper no less; the others might not have it completely figured out, but you cannot escape my eyes or Marco's instincts."

"Let's start with the binding situation-yoi"

"Please don't make me take it off!" he suddenly cut in.

"Don't worry. Like I said, we are not here to change who you are, but we do want to change the way you express yourself into safer options.

The binder that you are currently wearing is putting your breathing at jeopardy because of its size, so we will have to find one that fits you presently you-yoi"

Marco explained as he made few annotations in a nearby chart, ignoring how his little brother had gaped at him.

IN addition, we have to work on your diet; bacon is high in histamine, not to mention nitrates, which have been worsening the breathing symptoms. And finally, we will have to look for alternate puberty blockers, the ones you are currently using have been affecting your hormones in a way that has been exacerbating the symptoms as well."

"Wait, Wait!" Dokucha fussed as they shot from their chair.

"Is something the matter?" Izou questioned

"Yes, something is the matter! I have been hiding this all this time, only to be told you guys knew, and suddenly, I go from hiding it at all costs to sitting in a clinic and hearing you just casually list alternatives!?! I mean, am I the only one who finds that concerning?!"

"I'm more concerned how you got access to these pills," Marco muttered, much to Dokucha's exasperation

"Dokucha," Izou called, snapping the teen out of his rambles as he placed a hand on his head

"We still love you, you are still our sibling. After this, if you are ready, we would like to hear more about who you are."

"We are here for you-yoi, we won't push you to tell anyone until you are ready, we only brought it up as we were concerned; you are in control of your life and we are here to support you in your decisions-yoi"

"....thank you," he mumbled, wrapping his hands around Izou as sobs began leaving him.

"Thank you," he cried out. Despite the crying that echoed around the bay, the place did not feel sad but rather had a warm atmosphere filled with acceptance.

Here we goooo!

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

21 notes · View notes

marilyn-girly · 19 hours ago

Note

i LOVE your account so could you PLEASE write something for Darry like anything I beg 🙏🙏🙏

Silver Springs

D Curtis x Reader

Warnings: angst, fighting, etc

────୨ৎ────

You could be my silver spring

Blue-green, colors flashing

I would be your only dream

Your shining autumn ocean crashing

You couldn’t help but zone out during class, your manicured nails tapping against the desk. You couldn’t help but think about the football game tonight and who’d be there. The star football player would be running across the field in about an hour. Would he score a touch down? Most definitely. For you? You knew he would.

The bell rang and it drifted you out of your dazed thoughts about Darrel. You quickly grabbed your books and scurried out of class. Your eyes roamed the crowded hallways with chattering acquaintances as you hurried to your locker. You opened up your locker and put your books away, not caring about the unorganized order of papers. You quickly looked into your mini locker mirror as you fixed your hair. You needed to look perfect.

You quickly slammed your locker shut when you felt two muscular hands grab your waist. You jumped and quickly turned around. You were met with a a big grin on your boyfriend’s face.

“Hey, honey”

You laughed and slapped his arm.

“You scared me, Darrel!”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll make sure to pop up behind you and not say anythin’ next time.”

“That’s even worse!”

You both started to walk out of the school building, Darrel’s arm drapped over your shoulder. The big game would start in an hour so you’d go home first. Darrel would be the one staying here.

“Excited for tonight?”

“Definitely. I’m gonna score a touch down just for you, honey.”

“Really?Just for me?”

He nodded his head which made you smile. You never doubted why people liked him because who wouldn’t? You both stopped walking on the sidewalk.

“You should get going. You don’t want coach getting mad especially before a game.”

He chuckled and nodded his head in agreement.

“Yeah, you know how he gets. But I’ll see you later, alright?”

You nodded your head and started to slowly walk back, still facing him.

“I’ll be in the crowd.”

“And I’ll be lookin’ for ya.”

You grinned and blew him a kiss goodbye before turning around and walking to your house, with an extra pep in your step.

୨ৎ

The Tulsa air was crisp and cooling, much nicer than the heat during the day. You sat in the bleachers watching as your boyfriend runs and catches the football. People around you hollered and screamed for him but you knew you were the loudest.

The score was up by one now, home just needed to get one more point to win. You shifted in your seat as you watched the ball fly up into the air. Your heart pounded with anticipation as the ball was passed by one teammate to another. The people around you, mostly parents or kids from school, mumbled and yelled tips on how to actually play.

The game got really interesting to you when Darry caught the football in his hands. You screamed for him and soon he was running with the ball down the football field. No one could stop him, he’s a natural. That’s why after being three seconds close to a heart attack he scored a touch down. The crowd irrupted in loud cheers and screams.

You hurried down the bleachers, hopping down onto the football field to see your boyfriend.

“Darry!”

You ran towards him and he took off his football helmet. He threw it onto the ground before grabbing you in his arms as you ran into him. Your lips collided with his in a messy but loving kiss. You both pulled away after it felt like your lungs were about to break.

“You did it.”

“I said I would.”

You smiled as you looked up at the boy that could give you the world if he could. It felt like he was all that mattered to you in that moment, he was all that mattered throughout high school.

And don’t say that she was pretty?

And did you say that she loved you?

Baby, I don’t wanna know

You went away for college. That’s all you could think or say when someone brought up Darrel Curtis. You went away for college. You wrote to your lover everyday until he stopped writing back. You wasted dimes trying to receive calls that he’d never answer.

You never understood why he never wrote or called back until you traveled back to Tulsa for summer break. You learned about Ponyboy going missing with Johnny..the whole shabang. You wish you could’ve been there to comfort him but he found comfort in someone else. Someone who was there for him even though she was a complete stranger. Someone who was there when he was most vulnerable. You wouldn’t be that person because you weren’t there for him. You were only there through paper and calls, he couldn’t rely on that.

“What the hell, Darrel! You just think because I went away means this was over? That we were over?”

He ran a hand down his face and shook his head in aggravation.

“You don’t get it! You went away. You left me. I needed you and you left!”

“I had no clue! You just stopped answering my calls and my letters. You never told me!”

He ran a hand through his dark hair and laughed dryly, that was more of a scoff than anything.

“Maybe that was a sign! Maybe I didn’t want to answer your stupid calls or your shitty letters!”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You thought he wanted you to write to him? You thought he still thought about you? He told you that when he left. He promised.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He looked away from you before continuing. His voice was quiet and shakey which was different from before.

“It means I’ve been done when I stopped answering. You weren’t here, she was.”

So I begin not to love you

Turn around, see me Runnin’

I say “I loved you years ago”

Tell myself you never loved me

The diner was filled but not filled enough to be loud. It was quiet enough to hear everybody’s conversations. You were sat alone in a booth as you nurtured a vanilla milkshake. You fiddled with your straw as your eyes roamed around the diner. There were waitresses serving their tables or talking bad about a regular. There were groups of boys that would do their homework or flirt with the waitresses. There were couples that have been dating for years but then there’s that couple that has been dating for two months.

Your face turned sour as you watched Darrel slide his hand up her arm, push her hair behind her ear, whisper sweet nothings to her. She would just smile. She smiled so sweetly you could see the softness in his eyes. The softness that you used to bring. You knew him when he was soft, you knew him when he’d light up a room with a smile. But her? She makes him turn soft, the way he used to be before he turned cold and stern.

You wish you were her. But you were her at one point. You were the girl that would make Darry want to go to school, you would make him want to head into math class and you made him want to follow his dreams. You believed in him and he did too but his dreams couldn’t be followed. So why would he continue to believe you? She would be the girl to stay with him throughout his endeavors and hardships. You weren’t that girl and you’d never be.

Oh, no

Could you tell me, was it worth it?

Baby, I don’t wanna know

You swallowed the lump in your throat before standing up. You let out a shakey breath and headed out the diner. The same diner Darrel took you on your first date because he thought

“It’d be nicer talkin’ instead of watchin’ a screen the whole time.”

You smiled and tilted your head.

“You’d wanna listen to me talk the whole time?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Gotta get to know ya but if I could I’d ask you to be my girl already.”

You scoffed and glanced away from him.

“You’re crazy, Curtis.”

“But I know what I want.”

You looked back at him and smiled seeing his proud grin.

“Alright. I’ll be there at six.”

That memory made you smile and it’s because all you have is memories of him. You don’t have plans and you never will.

You walked down the streets you both would walk on side by side. His arm would be wrapped around your shoulders and you’d be leaned into him. But you’ll never feel that warmth again. You’d pass by the drive in where he took you on your second date. That’s when Darrel tried to drape his arm around your shoulder but instead hit your face with his hand on by accident. You later forgave him when he dropped you off at your front porch and you kissed him under the flickering porch light. That’s when you both had your first kiss together.

You feel like the town is haunted by him. Every corner or under every street light was where you both were. You knew you’d never escape the memories you both had. You don’t think he would ever forget either.

Time cast a spell on you

You won’t forget me

I know I could have loved you

But you would not let me

#the outsiders #se hinton #darry curtis #x reader #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston #johnny cade #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews

22 notes · View notes

changelingsandothernonsense · 3 days ago

Text

Wip Whenever...

Thank you to @skyrim-forever and @silly-little-diary for tagging me <3 Gonna do no pressure tags @pocket-vvardvark @smolpocketmonstercoffee @sanzas-reverie @scholarlyhermit @scribeofskyrim @truth-01001001-liar @firefly-factory @redyn-nerevarine @archangelsunited Oh look it's some time during that mid-point of the week or something...

I started on a new painting recently and most of the progress involves painting hands. You'd be surprised how much is involved in painting hands. Like you don't have to put that much detail Ceth, you're just a perfectionist to a fault and need them hands to look grabbable.

I also have some writing from Sleepers Awake 15 where Josh finds out why he's been running all over Vvardenfell asking the same questions.

Art first...

Hey look, it's Erra! I've been painting these fingers for four hours XD I am happy with how they look so far. They just take time.

Writing!

Like I said above, Josh is finally told what's going on, and he's not impressed. But hey, he's about to meet the guy above in this chapter. So Joshi gets one positive (or two... I'm getting close to editing chapter 15 and getting it out in the next week).

Cosades reached for the envelope and opened it. He arranged a few stacks of parchment on the table, gathering a small pile in his hands and separating them for the rest. “I’m giving you back Zainsubani’s notes on Ashlanders. You’ll need them for your next mission.”

Teldryn took the notes from Cosades. This he’d expected; he and Hassour had already planned a potential trip north, and Cosades knew it. It was in these damn notes after all! It was just a part of him had hoped Cosades had someone more… competent in mind when he assigned this job. What kind of fucking idiot thought he belonged trying to negotiate with—

“Firstly, I’m promoting you to the rank of Finder,” Cosades continued, his eyes still on him as Teldryn flicked through Hassour’s notes. He noticed they were relatively untouched.

“Right?” Teldryn sighed, placing the notes into his pack. “So what’s the mission?”

Cosades briefly smiled at him, and it made him feel a little uneasy. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop… he just wasn’t expecting what that might entail.

“I’m sending you to the Urshilaku Camp to speak with Ashkhan Sul-Matuul and Wise Woman Nibani Maesa,” the Spymaster continued, reaching for the other pile of papers he’d laid out. Buckled and torn at the edges, he noticed some charcoal smudged along one of the particularly water-damaged pages. He knew what those documents were, and he didn’t like that Cosades was bringing them out again. He knew exactly what was in them and he wanted no part in it.

Because what he fucking managed to translate in his delirious state was fucking stupid!

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” Teldryn replied, shrugging his shoulders, “The report I gave you explains that we’d made preemptive arrangements.”

“Which I commend you for doing, Mister Sero,” Cosades conceded, nodding his head, “It’s why I’ve chosen to promote you again. You’ve shown me that you can be trusted with what comes next.”

Teldryn folded his arms and shifted his weight a little, “That was quick—”

“Do not make me regret this decision,” The Spymaster’s eyes narrowed, glaring at Teldryn for a moment.

“Okay?” Teldryn mumbled, trying his best not to avert his gaze. If a staring match was what Cosades wanted, then a staring match he’ll get.

It was the Spymaster who broke their gaze, moving instead to clear his throat, “Why do you think it is that you were released early?”

Teldryn shrugged, “Fucked if I know.”

“Sero.”

“Look, I’m just as fucking confused as you are,” Teldryn grumbled, glancing at the dusty floor under his feet, “One second, I’m locked indefinitely in the fucking Bastion and the next I’m hauled onto a ship and sent back here. I have no clue what fucking games you Imperials are playing at.”

“From the documents I was sent, it was a lot more complicated than you describe, Mister Sero,” Cosades replied coolly, his jaw taught as he started him down again.

“From the documents I was sent, it was a lot more complicated than you describe,” Teldryn parroted back, “You think I’m meant to fucking know that—”

The slap had thrown him off, and he cupped the side of his jaw in shock.

“Will you please take this seriously, Sero!” Cosades yelled as he took a step backwards, “This is important!”

“Then fucking tell me instead of dancing around the fucking thing like a jester!” Teldryn hissed through clenched teeth as he rubbed the healing spell he’d recently learnt into his jaw to soothe the ache Cosades left behind.

The Spymaster let out a deep sigh, his grip tightening on the documents in his hands, crinkling them further, “As you know from the decoded message, the Emperor and his advisors say that you have the ‘appearance’ of meeting the conditions of the ‘Nerevarine Prophecies’.”

Teldryn tilted his head as he folded his arms again, “You know how stupid you sound right now?”

Cosades shook his head, “No, the Emperor wants you to meet the conditions of these prophecies. That is why you were pulled from prison and conscripted on his Majesty’s authority. That is why you have been assigned to me.”

Teldryn frowned, his gaze falling to his muddy boots, “The Emperor wants me to fit the conditions? Cosades that’s—”

“The Emperor seems to believe that you fit the conditions,” Cosades repeated with a sigh.

“What the Emperor wants, the Emperor gets,” Teldryn mumbled under his breath as he shifted his weight again, “You’ve read the prophecies, yeah?”

“It was in the package you decoded,” the Spymaster admitted.

“So, you’d know that I don’t match shit, then?” Teldryn let out an exasperated sigh as he dragged his good hand down his face, “This is stupid.”

Cosades leaned against the table again, his gaze focused on the corner of the room that held his cot. Or rather, what was stored under it. He knew the Spymaster was feeling that itch, “It’s standard vague prophecy conditions.”

“Cosades, I know who my parents are,” Teldryn stated through gritted teeth, “I saw my mother two weeks ago.”

“She’s not your mother on paper,” The Spymaster replied curtly, “You’ve been struck from the records.”

“You mean the House Hlaalu shit?” Teldryn grumbled. He had discussed his removal from official family records with his mother a few months ago. The ghost of his presence represented by an entry under his mother’s name— Bastard Offspring: Name Unknown. It was an odd feeling, but then again, it was not as if he wasn’t used to feeling that way. That disconnect he’d always felt…

“It’s a component, yes,” Cosades nodded, that frown still plastered on his face. It was starting to annoy him.

#wip whenever #my art #my writing #danger!josh #teldryn sero #erra ilaba'andul #nerevarine #dunmer #morrowind #the elder scrolls #tesblr

25 notes · View notes