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girlgenius1111 · 8 months ago

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all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

-------

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared.

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten.

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute.

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind.

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona.

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this.

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent.

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything?

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you. She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion.

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off.

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving.

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded.

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building.

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?”

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you.

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully.

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand. It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived.

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt.

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back.

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space.

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?”

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.”

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door.

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears.

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there.

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time.

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her.

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening.

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?”

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.”

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.”

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands.

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.”

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,”

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.”

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion.

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified.

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught.

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something.

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister.

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this.

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers.

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.”

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal.

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk.

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her.

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed.

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others.

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it.

Too much. You were being too much.

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them.

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted.

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers.

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young.

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit.

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed.

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee.

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.”

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted.

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.”

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk.

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs.

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry.

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly.

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.”

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown.

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well.

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn’t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary.

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly.

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly.

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued.

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively.

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.”

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.”

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so.

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.”

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet.

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.”

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy.

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop.

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you.

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back.

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed.

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly.

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.”

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile.

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.”

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend.

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully.

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her.

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.”

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-”

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands.

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?”

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen.

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.”

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.”

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up.

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived.

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really.

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly.

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.”

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence.

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come.

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym.

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned.

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi. “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.”

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were.

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall.

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look.

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze.

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.”

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction.

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido.

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh.

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water.

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.”

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically.

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.”

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.”

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it.

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly.

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.”

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister.

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there.

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her.

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her.

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about.

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage.

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her.

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said.

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired.

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.”

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike.

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?”

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior.

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?”

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually.

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.”

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?”

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?”

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively.

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information.

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute.

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.”

“And you did.”

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.”

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard.

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly.

“One more promise?” She asked.

“What?”

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.”

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one.

“I’ll try.” You promised.

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better.

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming.

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room.

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head.

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given.

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.”

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional.

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child.

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands.

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you.

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?”

“Ale’s sister Fresa went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly.

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift.

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter.

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked.

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you.

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously.

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with.

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you.

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over.

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her.

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner.

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.”

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you.

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face.

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.”

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea.

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute.

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house.

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer.

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #sol☀️#🍓☀️

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bugs1nmybrain · 4 months ago

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✨️ L Lawliet w/ a Shy & Insecure Reader Headcanons ✨️

Notes: I got real specific here. I need some validation haha. I swear if L ever complimented me I'd implode and then explode like I've done many times in the DS game (don't make fun of me >:<)

I'm adding pink text and sparkles to the title. Cope with it DN twt

Warnings: 18+!!! There is some sexy content, no gendered terms or pronouns. I tried being inclusive with the sexy stuff. Talks about poor self-esteem and insecurities. L being his rude ass self at one point. Reader described as quiet. I did indeed write L as a sweetheart, and I don't regret it one bit! :D. Not proofread

For starters, shy isn't a problem for L. He appreciates that you're quiet and relatively polite. It makes it easier for him to get away with dating you because he knows you're not going to be obnoxious around headquarters, and there's a good chance you'll never even mention that you're his partner

He finds it vry cute. Especially when you stumble over your words when he flirts with you. His pride is very comfy with you.

You are a perfect parallel play lover!!! He's grateful that you don't pester him when he's busy, but he doesn't mind you being around him. You can draw, do homework, write, play video games, anything. He just appreciates your company. He's also 100% paying attention out of his peripheral vision.

But because you're quiet, sometimes you don't share all of your thoughts with him and it can make for a satisfying relationship. L sure as shit isn't disclosing a lot of stuff, so he sees it as even

A lot of your secrets are insecurities, though. You worry a lot about your competency as a romantic partner. Whether it's your intelligence, physical beauty, personality, interests, anything really. You're always anxious that you're not enough, and not enough for him.

L knows well that you lack confidence. He's torn, actually, because he wants to see you become more sure of yourself and he'll try to help. He teaches you skills when he has time and makes sure to compliment you when you do something good. Sometimes he stretches the truth in his praises just to make you feel better. He knows you value his opinion a lot.

However, your insecure nature is an easy opening for him to get away with a lot. Nothing that serious, but secret tests are a given with L, and he does like to test if you'll push through him not given you the validation he knows you want. It actually does make him feel like 10% bad, though, and he'll make up for it.

He understands why you're insecure, but at the same time, he thinks it's silly. Especially when you admit to him that you're worried about your physical appearance or sexual abilities. It's in those moments he just wants to tell you to stop because "have you seen me, y/n?"

But yes please flatter his ego

When you started sleeping together it actually was pretty smooth and natural

I truly believe L was a virgin until you, so he probably wasn't much more confident than you

The doom of adult virginity/inexperience is that everyone expects you to be pornographic by now, and for an insecure person that can be very demanding

L doesn't expect that and won't be disappointed by something slow and "vanilla." He likes that, honestly. But of course, if/whenever you're ready for something more spicy, he's very open to communicating about it

This guy is just happy to touch you, period

If you fumble because you're nervous, he's not upset, but he'll redirect you with affirming words

He does admittedly get irritated by consistent nagging and the self-deprecating comments you make. It annoys him after a bit. He'll likely disengage to avoid hurting your feelings, but if you're persistent, he'll give it to you straight.

"The only thing you should be insecure about is that you're a broken record."

Fight the tears

It actually does make him upset when you doubt him and his love for you. It makes him feel like you don't trust him. L is aware that he's deceptive by nature, but he wants you to trust that he values you. He certainly wouldn't be in a committed relationship with you if his feelings weren't genuine

So he reminds you. Again. And again. That he wants you in his life and treasures you

You're lucky that he loves you so much

Sometimes, you'll go through periods of isolating from him because you're afraid of bothering him. Trust me. He's glad to have time to work, but he does pick up on your distance quick

You're so afraid of asking him for attention

or even just a bite of his cake. He always offers, tho.

But yea. L is a busy guy and comfortable in seclusion, so he isn't that clingy. He can go a long time without checking in on you, which doesn't help the paranoia

When he decides to take a break for once, usually his first instinct is to either 1. Get coffee or a treat, or 2. Make a bee line to see you!!

OR 3. BRING YOU FOOD TO SHARE

Know that he loves you much more than most things. You are his priority, even if his work takes precedence at times.

He'll attempt to build your trust over time because he understands how hard it is to believe in someone's honesty. It'll get better, and you'll likely start to feel more self-assured with him. L talks a lot, but he believes actions speak louder than words, so he'll show you how much he loves you through the little things because you light up his world after an exhausting day full of murder and nonstop thinking. You're home to him and he wants you to feel the same way about him.

#l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet x gender neutral reader #l lawliet x reader headcanons #l lawliet headcanons #l death note #l lawliet x y/n #fictional other

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sugar-grigri · 27 days ago

Text

CSM 182 : snow or the power of forgetting

the snow, eaten by CSM recently, forgotten

the snow, the illusion that lulled Aki in his last moments

the snow, chapter 182, where you finally put the pieces together

what does snow mean ?

What if I told you that Denji's reaction to Yoru's ambivalence was the wrong one ?

I'm not talking from a moral point of view, but purely from a narrative one.

What does Yoru actually do by threatening and kissing him ?

It leads to ambivalence, to a striking contrast that is unbearable.

But life is nothing other than this same diluted contrast, this mixture of negative and positive constantly associated.

When Denji says he can't master these two facets, these dirty tricks and all the problems he has to face, that's precisely what has become his worry.

splitting himself, splitting his surroundings, seeing obstacles as ultimatums.

All this may seem off-the-wall and crazy, or like an analysis to justify Yoru's behaviour.

It isn't.

Don't see his kiss as a kiss, but as a narrative perch for Denji to finally face up to himself

Why ?

Dirty things are what he's always hoped for, they seemed in essence extremely positive, they were the way out of his misfortunes

For Denji, doing dirty things inevitably led to happiness.

Denji gradually realises, thanks to several female characters, that these dirty things are not all positive.

You might think that Denji really took his time to realise this...

But it's far from easy for him; for him, life was a deep unhappiness, always, with no prospect of happiness

Or rather, he couldn't see happiness

Because his conception of happiness was restricted to those dirty things

Pochita, Aki, Power, Nayuta, Denji realised his own unhappiness after their disappearance, he only realised the presence of happiness through his loss

Because he hadn't done anything dirty until now!

Until the end of part 1, Denji is trying to rethink his vision of happiness and is trying to break away from normality, to raise his standards higher: eating steak, 10 girlfriends.

Even though he has come close to happiness, Denji doesn't realise it, because since that happiness wasn't eternal, it wasn't happiness.

Happiness remains a way out for him.

Tasting his definition of happiness, being kissed by Yoru, makes him realise that happiness has lost its meaning.

With each kiss, Denji realises that it won't bring him happiness, because it doesn't make him happy.

Little by little, Denji tries to get closer to something for the long term, not the moment.

That's why, he asks if "Asa" loves him.

Can he finally taste that unchanging happiness? Never taste unhappiness again ?

Asa is his downside, her intrusive thoughts, her internal panics, her reflections are preventing her from living in the moment.

And she doesn't want to live in the moment, because she doesn't trust her instincts (when for Denji they are a way out).

Her instincts led her to save a cat, causing the sacrifice of her mother.

But it was Chainsaw Man who made her realise that life can be excruciatingly bitter and sometimes sweet.

Inhabited by Denji, who is as lost.

How could Denji say something as right as that crap burger if he's lost too ? Life is disgusting, it's tiring and yet we keep eating this burger, thinking of dogs, cats and ice cream.

Because Denji didn't do it.

It's Denji perfectly fused with Pochita.

CHAINSAW MAN.

A double being, symbolically realising the ambivalence of life.

Denji was Pochita's happiness, hence her sacrifice.

Pochita was Denji's happiness, hence his unhappiness.

The constant association of happiness with unhappiness - after all, that's all Denji and Pochita's meeting is about.

Except that at that moment, Denji had come to the wrong conclusion, talking about sex, hence the feeling of unease, and a sense of rupture in his speech. The hope of supreme happiness makes us eat this crap burger, it's true. But it won't make us happy.

What Yoru shows, even though he's part of Asa, is that the concept of happiness and unhappiness make no sense to a devil ; they instrumentalizes them, doesn't understand them.

So she gets hit by Asa because, damn it, this concept of happiness and unhappiness belongs to men.

So Asa takes over and says she hasn't recovered from her mother's death because this event will always seem so unacceptable and horrible to her. Bad things don't disappear.

What changes is the memories we want to bring to the fore.

Snow.

Symbolising Denji's supreme misfortune of having killed his brother to the point of vomiting with guilt.

Symbolically, it is this same vomiting that spits out the snow.

The snow is not just a trauma.

Aki was obsessed by the memory of the tragedy of his family, who were also killed in snowy weather.

And when Aki decides to visit his family's graves, to pay his respects tragically at his family's graves

He can't do it

Because two idiots divert his attention.

Forcing Aki to look away from the unhappiness of the past

To face the happiness right in front of him.

What Aki realised just before his death was that he had never seen happiness, or rather he had chosen not to.

Because happiness isn't there to be found, it's there, it's just there to be looked at, plunged in a pile of shit but it's sometimes there, but we refuse to consider that this thing is happiness, we can hope for more, can't we?

You have to eat this crappy hamburger, even if it means throwing up.

This is the taste of happiness.

Back to the snow

Which you associate with Denji's sadness and Aki's death

Yet this snow fight is Aki's last happiness

Seeing that snow again, associated with that fateful day when he lost his family

Holding that snow in his hands, and playing with his little brother, a little brother he has found again

What if this scene wasn't something he had to endure, but a choice? Aki's choice not to see, the gun held to his eyes, the choice to lull himself into one last sweet illusion, one last bandage, one last cigarette, to escape from this reality that he had always stubbornly tried to face, to escape from it.

But Denji is crying at this point.

Happiness cannot be total happiness, it melts, like snow.

Unhappiness will always be diametrically opposed.

The fact remains that snow is this temporary oblivion, this misfortune that we take in our hands to make snowballs, this moment of fun condemned to melt, snow determines what we do with our misfortune and our happiness.

Snow represents what we decide to see.

It is the forgetting, or rather the silencing of painful memories.

To realize that the snow is cold is to realize the end of happiness, because you're not playing anymore.

I don't like playing snowball: I don't like pretending to be happy anyway.

These memories will not disappear, but we can choose not to see them too much

The snow will remain cold, it will be condemned to melt, it is this moment, what we do with this moment.

Because if it didn't melt, no life would develop

If happiness and unhappiness were not this constant ambivalence, this intermingling of happy and painful moments, if this ephemeral aspect did not exist

Then no life would exist.

When Denji vomits snow, it's because he realises once again the association between happiness and unhappiness that snow represents.

Disgusted by this sad reality too, of not seeing unchanging happiness, of seeing life not as a burger, but as a shit burger.

But the snow is beautiful and it won't stay.

Like these two.

#csm 182 #chainsaw man 182 #chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #denji #asa mitaka #asa #yoru #pochita #aki hayakawa #power #power hayakawa #denji hayakawa #my thoughts

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jester089 · 1 year ago

Note

I feel I need to balance this angst out, do this AFTER you’ve done the others and given yourself time to chill…I’ve got my eyes on you…

Anyhow, how’s about the TADC gang all seperate with an s/o who’s just the definition of ‘chill’. They are the best comfort partner (just behind Kinger ofc), they comfort, share and engage in hobbies, show small signs of affection like soft side hugs and gentle butterfly kisses to the cheeks or neck, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Will also 100% piggyback/bridal carry their significant other if asked or for fun. Just a pure wholesome fuzzy mess.

Lazy days

This is just going to be what I think their hobbies and all are. As it's a fluffy request I'm going to do softer not cannon versions of everyone. TADC crew x Chill/Relaxed Reader

Caine

Caine can be an incredibly busy man/AI so try and make him take breaks. He gets to caught up in work because he's so worried that if he doesn't have fun things to do then people will start abstracting. So when you walk into his office gently pick him up and sit down in his chair with him now sitting on your lap it helps him snap out of it. He isn't going to stop still. But he really appreciates you being there. You being there and every now and again giving him an idea you had makes the work take longer, but makes it much more enjoyable. You'll honestly probably end up falling asleep on him, arms wrapped around him head on his shoulder. Sadly he doesn't have a neck, or any real exposed skin. So kisses will be a little rough but that isn't gonna stop you. It is a little weird kissing a giant set of teeth though. And second he finished up, or at least reaches a point where he can stop you pick him up and take him to your bed. Sometimes he'll tunnel vision to much on something and you'll have to do that anyways. It's like holding an angry cat when that happens, minus the claws.

Gangle

Gangle loves affection but isn't amazing at giving nor receiving it. Any time you do anything she can and will blush. And if you protect her from Jax. Putty Gangle has arrived. How relaxed you are despite everything happening helps her out a lot. I headcannon that she loves working with clay, like making pottery and all. But sadly with her ribbon hands she can't do it anymore. Or rather couldn't, cause you help her out. You two will sit in front of a potters wheel. You have her place her hands on the outside of yours and you just let her lead. (I have made plenty of pottery in my time and I can safely say it is incredibly hard to do.) Sadly unless your helping her with something she doesn't let you in her pottery station anymore. You tried to make a mug for her without her and it didn't go well. You didn't know the first thing about pottery when she wasn't guiding you so it ended up blowing up in the kiln. You felt really bad. Cuddles with Gangle are a little strange. She doesn't have any real body weight so it really does feel like your cuddling a piece of ribbon (for good reason). So you two came up with something. You got a body pillow that's around her height and when you two are cuddling she'll wrap around it so she has more mass. When she needs some comfort you'll know. Whenever she's in a really bad mood and wants you touch but doesn't really want to say it she'll exist really close to you and start gently wrapping one of her arms around yours. Overall 10/10, she's a giant sweetheart and your lucky you got her. So treat her well yeah?

Zooble

I recommend bringing some kind of hoodie or blanket with you. Her edges can be a little harsh on the body. Out of everyone Zooble is the highest chance of most cuddles. She never gets involved in adventures and avoids the others when she can. Which basically just means more alone time with her. Zooble has a lot of insecurities concerning her new body and the circus. You're the only one she trust enough with that kind of thing so don't downplay her thoughts and emotions. The main way she shows affection is just spending time with you, she isn't big on touch and she doesn't exactly have the resources for gifts. And that worries her, she knows that she can be rude and unpleasant to be around but she doesn't have anything else to offer you. She's not great at communication so you really just need to keep patient and keep loving her. She has a jagged and rough exterior, but it like everything can be broken. It'll just take time.

Kinger

You two make a great bunch. The others never would have thought but if someone is having an especially bad day they go to you two. Kinger is amazing at calming and encouraging words, and your amazing at calming acts and setting up an atmosphere. You've saved a lot from abstraction because of that. Hugs are amazing from him. That royal medieval robe he's wearing is really nice to the touch. Sadly he doesn't have a mouth but he'll try and make up for that with head bonks (Head bonk: To gently place your head against someone you care about to show affection. Usually used when that person isn't comfortable with kisses.) One time you two built an actual castle out of pillows. It took you like a day but it had a working drawbridge and everything! Sadly it was broken during an adventure but it was really fun to build with Kinger. He can get a little... Unstable... When that happens a tight hug and a kiss can usually snap him out of it. But if that doesn't work bring him back to your room. The atmosphere you have set up and the fact that it smells like you will help him out a lot.

Ragatha

Once again you two make a good combo. She holds people off from breaking down. But if she can't stop it then she sends em to you. So once again you two help with abstraction a lot. But poor baby is stressed and you help provide some needed relief. I see her as the type of if she was expecting a kiss or a hug she'll hug/kiss back and thank you. If she wasn't she turns into a blushing mess with a big ol dopey smile on her face. Something she appreciates a lot is more childish things. Like if you start up a pillow fight with her she will be ecstatic. But be warned her pillows hit like a truck. Not cause their different just because she's really good at pillow fights. Her fav cuddle type is the honeymoon hug (look it up). She gets to be close to you and give you smooches if she wants. And she gets to feel like she's protecting you. She is the mom friend and you annoy her by saying over the top things like. "Ok MOM" when she asks you to stop doing something. First few times she hated it but now she goes along with it sayng things like "Hey! Don't talk back to me. Give me your phone you're grounded." She never means it though.

Jax

I think Jax is the most stable person in the circus. I'm saying he's mentally ok I'm just saying that he is by far at the least risk for abstraction. Whenever Jax plays a joke on someone and you go to help calm them down he gets a little jealous. He knows you love him but he doesn't really like you talking to others. So don't be surprised if you're in the middle of comforting someone and he just picks you up and walks away. He can be a little mean so for your own sake try and not take his words to heart. He just by second nature starts pointing things out that he dislikes, and often he starts pointing out things on/to do with you before he realizes. He also won't apologize so just try and ignore it. He sorta makes up for it with affection though. Cause he's pretty affectionate. Most of it is teasing yes, like he's come out of no where kiss your cheek and use a pet name that flusters you then just leave like he didn't do anything. But he's surprisingly gentle when it comes to that kind of thing. I see him being the type where you two fall asleep in the same bed and you wake up with him having his arms and legs around you probably drooling on your forehead. Or he's one of those that take up the whole bed so you often wake up on the floor. Many say that opposites attract. And you two are very different. But that isn't a bad thing.

Pomni

You two are opposites in a lot of ways. She is anxious and constantly in a state of panic/worry. And you never are. So you help her a lot. I see her being kind of like a cat towards you. Constantly around you and or begging for attention. I have an idea that I came up with a few years ago. It's a hoodie with a giant pocket inside. Like one of those baby carriers but minus the straps and inside the hoodie so who/whatever you keep in there share warmth. And she loves it. You two can be relaxing in your room and she'll realize something and spring off the bed you two were on. She and will turn the entire place upside down looking for it (https://www.tiktok.com/@louiencoco/video/7214862848042831110) so if you don't wanna have to clean up later just show her where it is. On a more serious note though you two were a match made in heaven and with enough time you could make a genuine improvement in her mental health. The main reason she's so fragile mentally is cause she never gets/got a break. So her favorite activity with you is probably just relaxing in one of your rooms away from the others.

(Tumblr deleted this like 3 times while I was writing it. And it turned out kind of bad because of that. Sorry but don't blame me. Blame tumblr.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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joocomics · 2 months ago

Text

ಬ made in heaven

pairing: dj!jiung x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.4k

contains: strangers to lovers trope, car sex, light sub/dom dynamics, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, restraints (handcuffs), voice kink, jiung uses a cheesy pick up line as reader wears an angel costume for halloween and it works

a/n: this was supposed to come out yesterday (10/07), but i was exhausted from work and completely forgot to post it >< happy belated birthday jiung, your blue era will never be forgotten ♡

[ p1harmony masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You turn around to see exactly the face you've been wishing to get the chance to see up close. It's been a while since you saw him for the last time and you're surprised to realise that you haven't forgotten his face at all.

It's not just his captivating blue hair that still keeps you intrigued, it's everything about him.

“You’ve probably heard this multiple times tonight already,” he chuckles as the corners of his lips slide up nervously, “sorry.”

You smile back, pleased to see him flustered. As you both allow your gazes to drag up the other’s body, your head tilts to the side playfully.

“Your name?”

Of course, you know his name already. But you don't want him to ever find out that you've asked around about him, or that you stalked his Instagram account the same night you saw him play for the very first time at this exact club you are right now.

“Jiung.”

“Jiung,” you repeat his name like it’s something you can taste on your tongue, “so you don't use a special DJ name or anything like that?”

“No,” he shakes his head; the charming smile doesn't leave his face, “I'm Jiung here as much as I am outside this club. What's your name?”

“I liked your set, Jiung.” Well, you always do. There are a few reasons why you continue to come here with your friends, and one of them definitely has to do with the addictive effects his seamless selections of tracks have on your body. “I’m Y/N.”

“And I enjoyed watching you have fun to it, Y/N.” He makes a quick pause before speaking out your name as he feels lucky to be able to know it. He wants to savour each letter.

The way you danced earlier with your friends caused him to keep glancing up at your silhouette as if you're some sort of a celestial vision. The way your body swayed rhythmically to the music kept distracting him not only because your sexy white dress with small shimmering wings undeniably stood out in the colorful crowd with blazing lights, but also because you've stolen his attention few times before already and he remembers you. He couldn’t help, but notice the way your eyes searched for him too.

“You've been watching me?”

Your bodies move closer. The techno beats which keep on booming intensely in the thick air isn't the only thing bringing you closer though.

You pick up on the way his eyes explore your face like they've been waiting for the proper moment to do so. There's a lustful spark in them that holds onto your gaze and you feel your excited heart come to a halt beneath your dress.

Jiung's lips curl flirtatiously as he’s about to answer and the sight floods your veins with adrenaline rush.

“I think it's impossible not to spot a beautiful angel like you.” His attention goes to your lips as they part slightly in surprise. “I notice you every time.”

At that moment, you both realise that neither of you wants to stay in this crowded club anymore. You both crave some privacy, and it’s time for you to say goodbye to your friends.

You didn't expect for things to escalate so quickly like this; for this Halloween party to suddenly lead you to Jiung’s car where he helps you adjust on his lap, pressing you down harder and groaning into your neck from how nice it feels to have you melting in his embrace.

“You're so gorgeous,” he whispers at your ear before continuing to nibble on your skin. Every time he speaks he sounds as if he's intoxicated, but he's completly sober. “Where have you been all this time?”

For some reason your divine costume of an angel only turns him on even more, and he can't stop roaming his hands along the fabric of your simple, but yet pretty dress that's hugging your curves perfectly, and your fishnet stockings - they occasionally tempt him to look down as his fingertips curiously sneak through them, but soon enough he loses patience and asks almost out of breath from your long kisses:

“Can I?”

And once you nod, because you’re unable to form proper sentences at the moment, with one swift move Jiung rips them off, exposing your panties.

You drag the dress up at your waist before shutting your eyes closed at the sudden, but delightful contact of his fingers against your clit. Needy sounds already start escaping your throat as he maintains circling motions at the right spot meanwhile your one hand keeps your panties to one side, not wanting him to stop even for a second.

“You sound so pretty, angel…” He utters before pressing an open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “Don’t stop, baby.”

Your skin warms up more and more with each word he says; with each following touch of his gentle lips that travel along your cleavage. And his voice… it spreads so captivatingly in the silence to the point the warm knot of arousal doubles in your body just by the sound of it.

“Right there,” you plead as the fingers of your one hand run through his vibrantly blue hair; the other is pressed against the car window, keeping you steady.

Jiung would love to keep savouring the nice feeling of your pussy, but your rising moans turn him eager to feel you other ways. He slowly retrieves his hand and kisses your neck one last time before leaning back to unzip his pants.

As you anticipate the moment with dazed eyes and racing heartbeat, your attention moves to the right seat next to you. It’s empty except the pair of handcuffs that’s left there.

You look at Jiung questionably as you pick them up.

“I was going to be dressed up like a cop for one of my friends’ parties.” He explains, meeting your sparkling eyes. Your little halo is tilted, he notices.

“I think I’ll wear them better.” A sly smile appears on your lips as you lean in to whisper: “Handcuff me.”

“Why?” Jiung asks playfully; his tone is soft, but in the most erotic way. “You’ve been such a good angel.”

And he’s right, but he does it anyway.

You tell him you can get naughty when you’re impatient meanwhile he simply likes the look of your wrists restrained together and dangling at his chest as you bounce up and down.

Your fingers clench desperately at Jiung’s hoodie at the same time as his own sink into your hips wanting to support your movements; to keep up the nice pace that has you both panting in sync as he bumps into your sweet spot again and again.

“Fuck—“ You mewl when your walls grip onto his cock harder as the firm grip on your body shifts around your waist. “I’m gonna cum,” you utter breathlessly. The way you fall back down starts to look and sound sloppy, but nonetheless eager to reach your peak.

Jiung’s hands go beneath your ass to hold you tighter. “Stay like this for me, angel,” he asks, as now his hips do the rest of the work. The sudden relentless slamming results into your mind going completely numb as you stay still with your muscles tensing from the thrill.

The lewd sharp sounds of his hips flying up to crash repeatedly into you fill the dark small space. Your heavy breaths turn the windows around you even foggier every time they melt into each other until they elevate into one blissful wailing the moment your thighs begin to shake as the climax washes over you.

The intense warmth floods your body in one strong wave, electrifying every part of you as Jiung pulls out in a hurry to release onto your stomach.

You lean back, staring down at the white ropes of arousal marking your skin. Jiung’s voice quietly shakes as his mouth hangs open in delight; the tight fist around his length gradually calms down.

“You have a pretty voice,” you speak up first after he looks up in search for your eyes. Your words come out much more mellow now as you normalise your breathing. “Have you ever thought about a singing career?”

“I don’t think so,” he admits through a chuckle.

That’s the last thing he expected to hear from you in a moment like this. He stares at you with an obvious intrigue as you smile, running your hands up and down his chest.

“Well, you should consider it. I don’t need to hear you sing to know you have it in you.”

The truth is, Jiung kind of made up that answer. He often sings not only in his head, but also out loud, as he walks around his apartment, doing different mundane things… but he’s fully aware you already know he just lied to you.

His hands stroke your thighs as they still keep him down. The noise the metal handcuffs create around your wrists rings in the heavy air with lustful aroma.

“I will.” He nods, fixating his lazy gaze back on yours. “You can be my muse. Every artist has one. Right, angel?”

Is this his way to ask if he’s going to see you again, you wonder…

The answer to both is yes.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#— writing: p1harmony #if you remember me rambling about jiung making a very hot dj you’re a real one #p1harmony hard thoughts #p1harmony hard hours #p1h hard thoughts #piwon smut #p1harmony smut #choi jiung smut #jiung hard thoughts #jiung x reader #p1h x reader #piwon x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1h smut

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harrieatthemet · 10 months ago

Text

Newborn

It's a miracle he hasn't chewed off all 10 fingernails yet.

this is long but whatever!

There's an abundance of nerves so dense it may as well have it's own seat in the Range Rover; plenty enough to go around with seconds for anyone interested. With the stereo at a whopping maximum volume of 2, and unbearably loud fidgeting in the driver's seat, you're well versed enough to know something is just eating away at him.

"The only thing louder than your nail biting," you tease from the backseat, "is the sound of your heart beating in your chest."

You watch his eyes briefly flicker their attention to the mirror, greener than ever as they widen a bit to catch a steady glimpse of your reflection from the backseat. And all he lets out is a quick sigh before he tightens the grip of the wheel (10 and 2, the entire time), eyes out of your peripheral vision as quickly as they came in. He only waits to nervously shift his weight in his seat for the umpteenth time until he gets to another red light.

"S'it bothering you," his tone is so flustered and apologetic, you almost feel bad for joking, "m'sorry just, y'know, nervous."

For the first time since the hospital departure, he turns in his seat to fully face the second row of the car. He's envious of you; so calm and collected, radiant with joy even after a grueling delivery. And he sucks in a calming breath when he trails his glance to the tiny baby snuggled sweetly into the car seat beside you, swimming in her baggy pink flower pajamas and endless mountain of hospital-gifted blankets.

He's done this ride before. He remembers it so fondly as, easily, unarguably, singlehandedly the best drive of his entire life. And it feels like it was only yesterday when he was bringing Angel Baby home for the first time. It's exactly why he's so fucking nervous.

"Har, we're good," and as you patiently insist, you're adjusting the frilly white blanket on the newborn beside you, "but you're driving 9 miles per hour. I literally just saw that woman on the scooter pass us for the third time."

"Hey she's bloody fast on that thing, you saw her!"

"Pretty sure she's missing a wheel," you snicker, "so what's actually bothering you?"

He doesn't want to say it. Like, he really doesn't want to say it. Not just because you both have already discussed it over a dozen times in the past week alone, but because he doesn't care to tarnish what should be a wholesome moment.

So instead he says nothing. Not for a long time, he doesn't let the silence linger but for a minute he says nothing; he barely breathes. When your hand reaches out though, and finds it's way to his shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze, he releases that breath before letting the words soon follow.

"What if she hates 'er," and the way he's blurting it out tells you he's been sitting on this for hours, "or worse, what if she hates me and-and, I dunno, (Y/N) m'nervous. Y'remember wha' she said!"

A very shallow sigh of disapproval innately makes it's way passed your lips. It isn't because you're annoyed with him. The guilt is natural and, by nature, he only ever wants angel baby to be happy. But it's stemming from the fact that you're only physically capable of providing so much assurance. Not to mention he practically begged for another baby.

"Harry she's two," you remind him, "she told your mother she didn't want legs so she wouldn't have to go for a walk."

On the other hand, though, the imminent addition to the family was not a hit for everyone in the household. Angel baby did not take kindly to the impending addition. And you know exactly the incident he's referring to. Sure, she's definitely well immersed into her terrible two's stage, and you'd like to chalk it up to that. But she's never been keen on sharing Harry with anyone, even you sometimes. So the idea of now having to share him with a sister presents itself as an incredibly challenging hurdle.

"She'll be fine," and as you say it as soothingly as possible, you can see he begins to ease up "she's got a built in best friend now."

Those exact words are playing on a loop the rest of the trek home. Each stoplight that brings him closer to the front gate of the house, he's mentally psyching himself up; the best thing to say when he walks in, how to ease her into the role of being a big sister, the right way to bring you in with the new baby. He's so consumed in concocting the perfect delivery that he doesn't even realize he's already pulling past the open gates.

"This is your house," and already he's gone full blown with the baby talk, "y'live here with me 'n mummy 'nd a sister who... might not like you very much fo' a bit."

Though he masqueraded it with a sweet, gooey, charming little baby voice, your squinting eyes are loaded with displeasure so he understands it was not well received.

He takes a moment before opening the door; adjusts the hospital bags in his arms, takes in a breath before allowing it to roll out, lays a gentle kiss to your temple. Then he decides to stretch out his arm to press his thumb on the door handle.

It's a bittersweet moment. He's itching to see angel baby after two long days with out her. And he knows there's family, both yours and his, waiting eagerly to get their eyes on their newest 8 pound family member. But his heart sings when he hears the pattering of a familiar set of bare feet down coming from down the hallway. Immediately, he drops the bags in the foyer to make his way out from the front entrance and down towards the living room.

"Go see m'love," he hears Anne coo sweetly, so he rounds the corner, "who could tha' be?"

For the moment being, despite the fact it's fleeting, he tables the introduction to the newborn once he lays eyes on angel baby. Well aware of the fact you're just in the next room over, a brand new bundle of joy toted in your arms, he feels a surmountable sense of joy now that angel baby's in eye shot; hair unbrushed and a mess from what one would assume was a successful nap, head to toe in a watermelon printed pajama set, eyes wide with sheer joy and arms outstretched to intercept him. To which, he eagerly accepts as he crouches down to let her crash into his chest before sweeping her up.

"There's m'girl," he hums, hand tucking her hair from her face before showering her with kisses, "how's m'angel, hm? Still sleepy from y'sleepover this weekend? Missed me as much as I missed you?"

He can almost feel his heart melt to mush in his chest as he cranes his neck back, listening in awe as angel baby spares no detail in her weekend with both sets of grandparents and Gemma. Most of it is borderline incoherent, though her elaborate expressions and dramatized recounts of events has him entranced.

"Where's mommy?"

"Oh yes" Anne's near double over in excitement, inviting herself into the conversation as she rubs small circle on angel baby's back, "where's (Y/N)? M'about ready t'explode, m'so excited!"

There it is again, that nervous feeling bubbling up in his stomach again. He's excited too; wants to show off the adorable little baby that completed his growing family, watch his mother and sister fawn over her. But he doesn't want to blow it on his first go. Most importantly, mere forethought of angel baby feeling like second place is enough to make him wanna start crying.

So he's going to try to ease angel baby into her new role as a sister while she's still fresh out of a nap and giddy with excitement. And while he still has the balls to actually go through with it.

"Mummy's here poppet," his tone is so sweet and fragile it'd break from the weight of a feather, "n' I think she's got something really, really special for you."

An animated expression paints itself across her face; eyes wide and doe-like as they twinkle in giddiness, her smile tripling in size. It's only a matter of seconds before she's writhing in Harry's arm, desperate to break herself from his grip to place both feet back on the floor.

There's no reason he should feel this guilty and this nervous. He's hot on angel baby's heels as she turns her skips into a light jog, traipsing down the hallway towards the front entrance sitting room as fast as her short legs will allow.

Anne's awing is low in tone, hands flying to her chest as she delights in the sight she's taking in. And as she goes to get a better look, making idle chatter with your parents and gushing to Gemma, Harry's eyes are darting back and forth as though he's waiting for angel baby to go right into orbit.

Momentarily, he anticipates an alternative outcome. Angel baby runs right up to you with arms wide open. He does that thing that gets him every single time - where she melts into the kisses you deliver all over her face. She hasn't killed the newborn yet, or thrown herself to the floor in existential despair. That's gotta be good start.

"Hi bubba, I missed you so, so much" you place a kiss to her forehead and she smiles contently, completely ignoring the baby in your arm, "but I have someone who wants to meet you!"

She squeals with joy, jumping up and down, "A puppy!"

"No baby," you laugh, and Harry swears he's about to spin off the fucking planet, "even better, a baby!"

"A baby dolly!"

She's either choosing to disregard the fact that the baby perched in front of her is 100% a real human being and not made of plastic, or she's genuinely oblivious. Regardless, Harry's panic is quickly becoming your panic. Because now you're both teetering on anxious, though Anne is swift to pick up on it and comes to aid.

"No poppet, not a dolly," Anne mewls, crouching down beside angel baby in front of your lap, "s'your baby sister. Mumma and Daddy brought y'a real sister."

And now it's fully set in - sheer panic. He's quick to jump into action though.

In quick strides from across the other side of the room, he very gently inserts himself beside you on the couch. You aren't catching on to what's to come and he chalks it up to you still being a little tired. Why wouldn't you be? He doesn't want this to go south, so he shifts himself on the couch, knees spread a bit so angel baby can lean on his leg and look over at the . If anyone could be the buffer here, he thinks he's the best bet.

Harry coos, "Say hi t'your baby sister!"

"No"

You side eye your husband beside you, who is staring at angel baby as though he's trying to to mentally coerce her into actually wanting to like the infant. He doesn't know where to take it from here. Angel baby is so viscerally displeased and uninterested at not just the concept of a sister, but the literal physical sister sitting inches away from her face.

"Dunno if that I love my big sister onesie seem t'be working." Gemma cracks in attempt to lighten the mood.

"No?" Harry repeats, though soft, but with the undertone of frantic as he glares at his older sister, "What do y'mean, button? She's really nice, 'nd

"My daddy!"

"Oh I told you," Harry's voice is a hushed squeak as the internal panic collides with irreconciable guilt "(Y/N) I told you!"

He can't imagine things getting worse than this. Until, of course, it does. Because as soon as the infant yawns and squirms a bit, Harry reaches over to your lap on instinct to adjust the hospital cap still clad to her head. And that was enough to get angel baby to strike. She leans right over alongside Harry with her fingers spread and palm flat, going to give the baby a shove before dominantly announcing another 'my daddy.'

A slew of gasps and stern no's come flooding out by all your familial spectators, even including yourself as you angle your body away from your 2 year old with a vengeance. Harry's stomach has completely flipped upside down, especially when angel baby bursts into tears and collapses to the floor.

The temper tantrum has ensued; she's a puddle at Harry's feet, back flat against the multicolored sherpa carpet as she rips out wails that could shatter every glass flower vase throughout the first floor. And naturally, it sets off some cries of distress from the new baby. In a second Harry might join them both.

"Jesus Christ," you exhale quietly, "this is fucked."

Your mom, noble as ever, does her best to step in and peel your daughter off the floor to bring an end to the (literal) swan song. Even now you have to admire the theatrics and flare for drama. She's truly emulating her father.

Her father, who is in an isolated frenzy in his attempt to asses every possible way to rectify this nightmare. Harry's not afraid to go low and opt for the last possible resort.

"Button," he exclaims, like he's just conjured up the best idea of his life, "she got y'a gift! A super big, really fun, totally awesome gift!"

The wailing comes to a slowed stop before an altogether halt. With eyes still watery and cheeks stained with tears, she peels herself up from the floor in what feels like slow motion until she's level with Harry. And she looks up at him with those eyes and that look - the one that you know will have Harry in the palm of her little hand in a matter of seconds.

"A gift?" she says it through a sniffle, "Like.. a barbie?"

She sniffles a few times more in an attempt to collect herself and, God, Harry can't help but fold, "Four barbies!"

And he doesn't care that your face shoots him one of those 'we should discuss this first' looks because she's finally reeling in the crying. And she's finally starting to take to the idea of another baby to share the spotlight with because she goes to lean on your knee now - right next to the baby as a show of solidarity. That's a win to him, even if he had to get there with shameless bribery.

"Harry," you whisper sternly, "remember.. about the gifts... and not spoiling her."

It's like talking to a wall, because he doubles down, "And a new dream house! If y'really sweet t'her, maybe baby sister will buy you tha' little pink limo for 'em too."

"Harry!"

"What?" He shrugs, but quickly evades your glare, "th'limo l'look great with th'house! 'Nd they can't walk everywhere!"

#harry styles fanfiction #dad!harry #harry fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry blurb #harry styles one shot

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 3 months ago

Text

EPILOGUE: REQUIEM

Chapter 10 <MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: A trip to Brooklyn Botanical Gardens with Sam and Steve trigger a memory buried deep inside Bucky.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: HYDRA, living a secret life, Bucky Barnes (isn't he always a warning?) — If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

Steve had suggested visiting the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and he had insisted that Bucky and Sam join him. Bucky had grumbled about it, and Sam had joked about being the third wheel on their "date," but they had both accompanied Steve, albeit reluctantly. Both Bucky and Sam understood that this was a chance for Steve to reconnect with his past, and sometimes he needed the support of his closest friends.

As the trio made their way through the lush greenery, the sights and scents of the early summer blooms captivated them. While Steve and Sam explored the gardens with a sense of curiosity and wonder, Bucky found himself drawn towards a particularly familiar fragrance that seemed to tug at the edges of his memory. Compelled by the alluring aroma, he followed his nose, weaving through the meticulously cultivated paths until he came upon a serene, shimmering koi pond. The water's surface was blanketed in a vibrant display of lily pads and blossoms, their petals unfurling in shades of pink, white, and yellow that almost seemed to glow under the warm summer sun.

As Bucky approached the pond, the scent grew stronger, stirring a sense of nostalgia deep within him. Though the fog of his past still shrouded many of his memories, something about this scene felt hauntingly familiar, as if he had experienced it before, perhaps in a distant life, or a dream half-remembered. He paused at the water's edge, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched his mind, desperate to uncover the elusive connection. The vibrant colors were almost overwhelming to his senses, but it was the sight of the lilies themselves that truly captivated him, their delicate forms swaying gently in the light breeze. In that moment, Bucky was transported, if only briefly, to a time and place he could not quite recall, a memory that lingered just out of reach.

Suddenly, just on the edge of his peripheral vision, a figure emerged from the shimmering heat haze, a fleeting apparition that seemed to materialize from thin air. His heart lurched in his chest as a wave of recognition washed over him. Could it be? Squinting against the glare of the relentless sun, he hastily removed his cap, shielding his eyes as he strained to get a better look. The figure was there one moment, then vanished the next, like a ghost from his past slipping back into the ether.

He blinked rapidly, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him in the bright light. For a split second, he thought he glimpsed a familiar profile, a turn of the head, a telltale gait - it had to be her, the one who had haunted his dreams for all these years. But just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, swallowed up by the shimmering haze, leaving him with a pounding heart and a head full of questions.

Who was that? Could it really have been her, after all this time? Or was it simply a cruel mirage, a figment of his imagination conjured by the relentless sun and his own yearning? He stood there, transfixed, searching the horizon for any sign of the mysterious figure, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions; disbelief, hope, fear. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: the ghost of his past had returned, and he knew he would never be the same.

Bucky stood transfixed, his gaze fixed upon the calm, glassy surface of the pond before him. The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pond provided a soothing, meditative rhythm that had lulled him into a contemplative trance. In this moment, the bustling world around him seemed to fade away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Just as Steve and Sam approached, calling out to him, Bucky was jolted from his reverie, the spell broken. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly tore his gaze away, knowing he must rejoin the present, even as a part of him wished to remain in this tranquil, introspective moment a while longer.

“There he is!” Sam nudged Steve before calling out. “Hey, Tin Man!”

Bucky scowled, the serenity of his thoughts broken by the sound of his voice.

“Everything alright, Buck?” Steve asked, noticing his friend’s sorrowful expression.

“Yeah. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

“You have friends outside of the two of us?” Sam asked incredulously, making Bucky roll his eyes and Steve crack a smile.

“Ready to go?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, stealing one last glance at the pond as the three men walked away.

The cold steel of the makeshift bed pressed against Bucky's cheek, the chill seeping into his bones and sending a shiver down his spine. Even in the hazy, disjointed realm of his dream, the sensation felt startlingly real - the hard, unyielding surface, the musty, stale air filling his nostrils. He could feel the weight of the chains binding his wrists, the metal links digging into his skin with an agonizing bite. This was no mere figment of his imagination, but a memory, a phantom echo of a past he could scarcely recall.

"Kotyonok," he whispered, his voice rough and cracked from disuse, the single word a desperate plea into the void. The name felt like a ghostly whisper from a forgotten world, a fragment of a life he had once known. But the face, the identity that should have accompanied that endearment, remained frustratingly hazy, obscured by the mists of time and trauma. He strained to grasp at the elusive image, to bring it into focus, but it slipped through his fingers like wisps of smoke.

For just a moment, he saw you - a flash of silky hair, a mischievous glint in beautiful eyes, a smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms. But before he could fully comprehend the vision, you faded, disappearing back into the shadows and leaving him with a suffocating, aching emptiness. He tightened his fist, the phantom pain of the missing arm shooting through him in a blinding wave. "Kotyonok," he tried again, his voice a desperate, guttural plea. "Who are you?"

The world around him twisted and shifted, the clinical, sterile room morphing into the dimly lit confines of an apartment. A shared laugh, a melody he couldn't quite place, echoed from a time he could no longer recall. The scent of lilies filled the air, a fragrance that made his stomach clench with a yearning so profound it was almost physically painful. "Kotyonok," he choked out, reaching for you with his metal hand. But his fingers only grasped at empty air, the phantom of your presence fading back into the darkness.

Bucky awoke with a gasp, his metallic hand clenching into a tight fist as he was pulled back into the familiar confines of his room, the cold metal of his bed keeping him grounded. He was alone, but the name ‘Kotyonok’ echoed in his head, a haunting whisper that promised a past he could barely remember, and a future he could scarcely imagine. It was a ghost, a shadow of something lost, and it left him aching with a longing he couldn't begin to comprehend.

Bucky's mind was a whirlwind of fragmented memories and emotions, like shards of a shattered mirror reflecting glimpses of a life he could barely recognize as his own. The sound of Sam's voice jolted him back from the precipice of that dark, tumultuous inner landscape, where the ghosts of his past threatened to consume him.

“Bucky? Are you alright, man?” Sam's tone was laced with genuine concern, his brow furrowed as he studied his friend's distant, troubled expression.

Bucky let out a weary sigh, trying to push away the phantom feelings that still lingered, the echoes of a life he could scarcely recall. "Yeah, just a little tired," he mumbled, the words feeling hollow even as they left his lips.

Sam frowned, the lines on his face deepening as he recognized the familiar signs, the haunted look in Bucky's eyes, the subtle tension in his posture. He knew all too well about the nightmares that still plagued his friend, the horrific visions of his time as the Winter Soldier. But these were different, Sam could sense it. These were the ghosts of something else, a love perhaps, a connection that had been ripped away and now existed only in the hazy, fragmented remnants of Bucky's memory.

“I know you're getting better, Bucky,” Sam said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support and understanding. “But sometimes, the past doesn't just disappear. It lingers, like a shadow, always lurking just out of sight.”

Bucky nodded, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach growing more pronounced. He needed to know, he needed to find out who you were, who you had been to him. It was a compulsion, a driving need to uncover the truth, to reclaim that which had been lost. And so he began his search, scouring old files, questioning anyone he could from his troubled past, chasing every phantom echo that whispered your name. The weight of this quest was a crushing burden, and there were times when Bucky felt on the verge of giving up, the futility of his efforts overwhelming. But still, he returned to the gardens, again and again, as if drawn there by an unseen force, a connection that he was desperate to rediscover and understand.

Bucky had returned to the botanical gardens, his steps quiet and his movements stealthy as he moved through the lush greenery, his eyes scanning the faces of every passerby with a razor-sharp focus. He was certain that if he saw you again, he would recognize you instantly, no matter how much time had passed or how much you might have changed. Settling onto his usual bench, he allowed his weary body to sink into the cool shade, his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted into a light doze.

But his dreams were anything but peaceful, they were a jumbled, vivid mess of his own haunting memories, the HYDRA valley where he had fallen from the train playing out in horrific detail. Yet, suddenly, the dreams shifted, and it was no longer him plummeting into the abyss, but you. Bucky jolted awake, a crushing realization weighing heavily on his chest. Had his desperate search been in vain all along? Was his mission to find you a fruitless endeavor, doomed to end in failure and heartbreak?

Shaken, he rose from the bench, his steps quickening as he strode out of the park, his focus distracted as he marched blindly, only to collide with someone much smaller than his imposing frame. Bucky's brow furrowed, his metal arm flexing reflexively as he steadied them, his mind still reeling from the intensity of his dreams and the uncertainty of his quest.

In that electrifying moment, as your gaze locked with Bucky's, the world seemed to slow to a standstill. The familiar stranger before you was unmistakably the man you had once loved with every fiber of your being, the same piercing eyes, the same chiseled jawline, the same aura of strength and resilience that had always drawn you to him. Yet, the years of hardship and trauma etched into his features were a painful reminder of the ordeals you had both endured. The horrors you had faced together, the anguish and suffering you had shared, had threatened to tear you apart forever. But now, in this fleeting instance, all of that faded away, replaced by a surge of joy and disbelief that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Bucky?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

A flicker of recognition ignited within Bucky, his lips curling into a hesitant, almost disbelieving smile as he uttered “Kotyonok,” his voice barely above a whisper. “Is it really you?”

In that moment, the years of separation, the torment and uncertainty, vanished into a distant echo, leaving only the overwhelming realization that your unbreakable bond had survived the darkest of trials. The love he had felt for you all those years ago came rushing back, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to consume you both. As his fingers brushed against yours, an electric current crackled between you, a tangible reminder of the love that had once been lost, but now seemed to have blossomed anew, like a delicate flower emerging from the ashes of despair.

Bucky's gaze was filled with a mixture of wonder and relief, mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. “I didn’t think you’d remember me,” you whispered, your voice choked with the weight of all that had transpired.

“I thought you were… gone,” he replied, the words laced with a profound sense of loss and disbelief.

“I… I thought you were too,” you said softly, your heart swelling with the realization that you had both defied the odds, that you had both somehow managed to cling to life in the face of unimaginable adversity.

As Bucky reached up and laid his hand gingerly on your cheek, the tender gesture spoke volumes, a silent declaration of the love that had never truly faded, even in the darkest of times. A wave of emotion washed over him, a mix of relief and heartache. “I thought I had lost you forever,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.

“I'm here now,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

He leaned down, his gaze intense, a mixture of longing and fear in his eyes. “I don't want to let you go again,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I don't want to let you go either,” you whispered back, your heart echoing the sentiment.

You motioned at the bench and Bucky took your hand as you both sat down.

“How did you find me?” You asked. “I expected Karpov would have ordered your memory wiped.”

“He did,” Bucky sighed.

“Then how-” you started asking.

“I remember you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I remember everything. Being here, it triggered something, and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since then, Kotyonok.”

“Kotyonok,” you echoed softly, savoring the sound of his nickname for you, a reminder of a love that had defied the odds. “How did you know I would be here?”

“I didn't. My friend… Steve… he likes to come here. He asked us to come with him a few times, but last month, I… was drawn to this garden,” he said, his voice soft, almost shy. “The smell of the lilies, they reminded me of you.”

You grinned, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up your face. “They're my favorite.”

“You always smelled of them,” he murmured, a fond smile playing on his lips. You loved that he remembered that about you, the little things that made you, you.

“I've been watching you… on the news,” you admitted, a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I've seen all the good things you've done with Captain America and the other Avengers. You're a hero, Bucky.” You wanted him to know that you saw who he really was, not the person HYDRA had made him.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I don't feel like a hero. I'm just... trying to make things right.”

“You are making things right,” you said, your voice full of conviction. “You're fighting for what's good, and that's all that matters.”

“Why… why didn't you come and find me?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and apprehension.

You hesitated, a ghost of pain flitting across your features. “I was afraid… that you wouldn't remember who I was. And… I don’t know if HYDRA is still looking for me. It’s not like I was important in the grand scheme of things, but-”

“You are important,” he interrupted, his voice filled with conviction. He gently cupped your cheek, his touch sending a surge of warmth through you. He made you feel important, like you were the most important person in the world.

Bucky's gaze softened, and he reached out, his calloused fingers tracing the lines of your face. “How... how did you survive, Kotyonok?”

Your gaze drifted away, lost in the depths of your own memories. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. I woke up in a farmhouse, this old couple… they took care of me. They were sweet, but I didn’t stay with them for long. Didn’t want HYDRA finding me with them, hurting them.” His hand on your shoulder gave you the strength to keep talking through the painful memories. “Moved around a lot after that, trying to stay under the radar. But I did it. I survived, and… so did you.”

His eyes held yours, searching for some understanding, some confirmation of the love that had survived the horrors they had endured. “I was so scared, Kotyonok. I thought I'd never see you again.”

“But you found me,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As Bucky's cool, vibranium digits enveloped your hands, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation. The sleek, metallic limb glinted in the light, its surface smooth and unblemished. You gazed, awestruck, at the intricate engineering on display, the way the vibranium had been seamlessly integrated to create a prosthetic that was both functional and aesthetically captivating. Gone was the harsh, utilitarian titanium that had once clashed so jarringly with the Winter Soldier's dark, menacing attire. This new arm radiated an air of refined elegance and restrained power, its strength and capability hidden beneath a streamlined, sophisticated exterior.

As you traced the delicate golden veins that shimmered against the matte black base, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. Each groove, each contour, spoke to the meticulous attention to detail that had been poured into this prosthetic. It was a true work of art, blending cutting-edge technology with a sense of timeless beauty. You knew that beneath that exquisite exterior lay a strength and power that was truly awe-inspiring. This was no mere replacement limb, it was an extension of Bucky himself, a testament to his resilience and the remarkable feats he had accomplished.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with wonder. “It's incredible.” You took his metallic hand in yours, feeling its lightness and balance.

“How does it feel?” you inquired.

“So much better,” Bucky replied, his voice carrying a newfound confidence. “Lighter, more...natural.”

“I can tell,” you said, noting his improved posture. “You're standing taller.” A gentle smile spread across your face.

“You can't resist, can you?” Bucky said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Resist what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Taking care of me,” Bucky answered.

You couldn't help but laugh. “I can't help it. I love caring for you.” Your words were filled with an unwavering affection that warmed Bucky's heart.

“I don't want to let you go again,” Bucky said, his voice filled with both sorrow and a hint of determination.

“Neither do I,” you replied.

His face hovered impossibly close, mere inches from your own, as he sat beside you on the weathered park bench. The warmth of his breath caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, and you longed to close the remaining distance, to feel the familiar softness of his lips against yours once more. Yet, a nagging doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind, a persistent voice whispering that something was not quite right. Was this truly the man you had loved with such fervent devotion all those years ago, the soldier whose every touch had ignited a fire within you? Or had he changed, subtly but irrevocably, during the long years of separation, his eyes no longer holding the same unwavering adoration, his tender caresses replaced by a hesitance that belied a shift in his affections?

Despite his reassuring words, the ones that had once made your heart swell with joy, you found yourself unable to silence the unsettling questions that plagued you. What if the feelings that had once burned so brightly between you no longer mirrored the all-consuming devotion of the past? What if the man you saw before you, so tantalizingly close yet somehow distant, was no longer the same person you had given your heart to all those years ago? The uncertainty weighed heavily upon you, a thick fog obscuring the path forward, as you grappled with the fear that the man you loved may have been irretrievably lost to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still reading you as easily as he always had.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your trembling hands. “It's just... you're here, and yet…”

“And yet it feels like I'm a stranger?” he finished, his voice tinged with sadness.

You nodded, unable to deny your feelings. “I've missed you so much, but I can't shake this feeling that something has changed.”

A deep sigh escaped Bucky’s lips as he reached out to cup your face. “I know what you mean. I've changed, Kotyonok.”

His words hung heavy in the air, like a weight upon your heart. “But you're still you,” you protested, desperate to cling to the man you had known. “Deep down, you're still the same person, aren’t you?”

The uncertainty lingered, a cloud obscuring the path ahead. But the flicker of longing in his eyes, the soft tremor in his voice, spoke of a man struggling to find his way back to the light. You knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just about the past, but about the future. About the chance to rewrite your story, to navigate the uncharted waters of your second chance.

“I don’t know.”

Your heart sank, but before you had the time to process your disappointment, he continued.

“But, if you’re willing to give me a chance, I would like to find out… with you.” He stared into your eyes, his gaze searching, questioning.

“You would?”

And then, a slow smile spread across his face, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes. He leaned closer, his voice a soft promise against your lips. “I would, Kotyonok. I want to fight for us. For you.”

In the depths of his eyes, you saw a glimmer of hope, a determination that had not been extinguished. Bucky was willing to fight, to embark on this journey with you, to rediscover the love that had once bound you together. It was a chance, a precious opportunity to rewrite your story, to forge a new path that would lead you both back to the light. And as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, hopeful kiss, you knew that you would be willing to take that chance, to walk this uncharted road by his side, no matter what obstacles lay ahead.

Chapter 10 <MASTERLIST

#winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #behind blue eyes

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crow-caller · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Crow,

Apologies if this has been asked before but I’m trying to get to the bottom of what people describe as ‘biblically accurate angels’ and I’m getting conflicting results and I thought why not ask someone who definitely knows more on the topic than me. Is the incomprehensible multi-eye wheel creature thing true?

"True" is the problem, because... it is, and it isn't, and it depends, and it's complicated!

I looooove angels, you're right, and I was working on doing a vid on this exact topic because the term 'biblically accurate angel' is a pet peeve of mine. However, no matter the power of my autistic angelic obsession, I wouldn't say I'm a perfect source. I got intimidated outta making that video because I got too anxious of messing it up and losing my angel cred. BUT! I do know some stuff.

What's wrong with "Biblically Accurate Angels?

Three things!

1. "Biblically"

Most people I see, when confronted with the word 'Biblically', think of Christianity. The Bible technically refers to a collection of texts shared by a number of Abrahamic religions, but I've a lot of people entirely unaware of that fact. There's often a general lack of recognition around 'biblically accurate angel' posting that angels aren't exclusively or originally Christian concepts. Tumblr is an outlier of a place, remember; I read youtube comments.

2. "Accurate"

This makes me lose it, just a little bit, because the idea 'real angels in the bible actually looked like scary monsters' is both incorrect and kind of a rude thing to say about a holy entity a number of religions believe in.

There are a lot of ideas of angel classification and hierarchy, but you'll usually only see one--- the Christian one. This has nine orders in three spheres, going usually angel, archangel, principality (3rd sphere, most humanoid), powers, virtues, dominions (2nd, basically no lore), thrones/ophainim, cherubim, seraphim (1st, weirdo patrol). The lowest spheres are closest to humanity, the highest are closer to the divine.

(it's worth noting there's a big difference between 'what is exactly in the canon holy text' versus 'writings/visions/ideas from scholars later'. There's differing opinions everywhere and also different sects.) Little is universal.

Speaking of, religions! Heard of them? Angel hierarchy as it's commonly see is very specifically a Christian angle! There's a number of different Jewish angelic hierarchies which include different types or interpretations of angels. There's usually 10 ranks instead of 9 too.

I know the least about angels in Islam, but they don't have a strict angel hierarchy either, though some angels are more important than others.

As for angel physical descriptions, it varies. They can take human form, but they're spirits doing that for our convenience. Some of them are doing weird stuff, but most of the time an angel is some essence of light and fire taking a lesser defined shape for our convenience.

Some of the main ideas of a 'biblically accurate angel' come from one of my fav bits of the bible, the chariot in Ezekiel.

If you've not read the fun weird bits of the bible before, let me introduce you!!

These are the Living Creatures which are considered Cherubim in Christianity. The wheels are the Ophanim, who are also Thrones. The whole thing sounds like a very intricate chariot rather than a bunch of angels, but hey, it says right there they're 'living beings'

3. "Angels"

What is an angel anyway?

Well, there's an answer, but as I think I've highlighted there's a number of different, varying ideas of them which are all equally valid! This can include, of course, the artistic choice of making them monsters ( I love doing this ), but it's incorrect to assert such a design is 'more or truly accurate'.

Angels are messengers. The word for angel originally was Messenger, and the role of angels is generally to serve as a conduit and messenger of divine will. They can be teachers or healers. They often are more extensions of the holy rather than truly independent spirits, good because they are divine rather than the choice of free will. (but like everything I'm saying it depends bc religions and opinions are not unified monoliths).

Not all angels are messengers. Even without a strict hierarchy, there's a common idea of specific angels for specific jobs. The idea of Archangels is also common, though which are and how many differs wildly, as does their function.

Angels are divine beings. Humans don't become them. There also are some sects that believe this, like the Latter Day Saints, but generally the divide between human and angel is very clear. Humans are generally above angels, because we're beloved new ocs.

angels are cool. I really like them

---

anyway, this is a very approximate ramble for you on the subject. I think I could have gone on in much more detail and I decided not to. Especially as I note I don't have that kind of 'learn and memorize everything about your special interest' kind of autism, just 'a lot more than normal over many years'. Angels are a really complicated subject because religion is, and it all differs. But I do dislike Biblically Accurate Angel because I think it's really misled people who come across it casually. Yes, there's weird angel stuff, but it's pretty rare (especially in common canon), and it isn't 'the secret creepypasta truth'.

#angels #sometimes theres asks #god I think this is a normal anxiety/autism thing but I am always so paranoid #of posting something like this and getting like 800 corrections and getting a Bad Grade In Angels.

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere coworker (part 9)

Tw: afab reader, non con touching, non con kissing, violence, cyprus mad n yelling

Masterlists, part 1, part 10

It's been a little over a month now. You barely get to sleep at your own apartment anymore ever since you got that fever.

Because Cyprus kept stealing your stuff and blackmailing you with it, you've never missed a night of sleeping at his place. It's like you're living there now, your pyjamas are Cyprus's large clothes and you've been wearing the same few outfits to work over and over, thanks to the free washing services downstairs.

Once or twice, he lets you visit your home just to pack up your skincare, soaps and whatever you need. He already bought you a new toothbrush earlier on in this relationship. Cyprus wouldn't allow you to take your gaming consoles though, he said he didn't want it to "clog up" his apartment.

It's... Nice. You didn't have to worry about what to eat. The bills are paid for. Your rent was also paid for despite barely living there anymore, you had no idea how Cyprus managed to transfer the accounts to his without you knowing. It didn't seem to put too much pressure on him, he was still as cool as a cucumber. You wonder how much he earns in a month.

You didn't have to deal with that creep back at your apartment, but you knew that he was lurking around, watching you and Cyprus during the rare visits. However, as long as that hunk of a man is next to you, he wouldn't dare to approach. That's a plus, at least.

You just had to get used to Cyprus's molester tendencies. It doesn't matter how hostile you would be with him, he would always try to seize every possible opportunity to touch you.

He would pull you into the staircase during lunch, just to make out with you until your legs grow weak and your head goes blank. Cyprus said it helps with his insatiable urge to smoke, you think it's at least helping him, so you're somewhat okay with this treatment. Totally not because you're secretly enjoying the attention and experiences he's giving you.

You managed to convince yourself that being with Cyprus isn't all that bad. He cooks, he cleans, he defends you from Jane, he prepares a cup of your favourite drink every morning and delivers it to your desk, he clocks you out and helps you greatly with your phone addiction.

He sets a limit where you can only use your phone for a grand total of two hours per day. Just to text your friends and family, but he made you delete all social media off your digital slab. Which caused a massive meltdown on your part, where you would cry and flail, and spit and hiss. But Cyprus was unmoving, he's determined to rid you of his modern curse.

Most of your time is filled with doing something else, visiting the beach, and the park, going on motorbike rides with Cyprus, having his tongue shoved down your throat, watching his violent boxing matches, eating at restaurants, talking, and visiting places that you always see on social media, but never been to (Ie., the zoo, the aquarium, carnivals and some other trending venues). You would come back dead exhausted from the day's activities, and you're astonished at how he never seems to run out of energy or date ideas.

You could cry, sob, beg, and struggle, yet he wouldn't allow you to rot in his bed or yours. There must be a destination to go to every day, after work. He would sling your entire body over his shoulder if he had to, it wasn't a fun experience being hung upside down while your legs helplessly flail around.

His lifestyle was completely different than yours, it's almost as if he's living in the 80s- sometimes even completely forgetting to bring his phone with him. That is unfathomable to you, forgetting your phone is just like forgetting your vision, how anyone could live without it, you couldn't understand.

It would be a lie to say that you never had any fun. You would start off teary-eyed and throwing a tantrum because all you wanted to do was take a nap or play your videogames after a long day of work, but in the end, you would be laughing gleefully with cotton candy in one hand, and a stuffed animal in another. You would collapse immediately upon coming back to his place, allowing you to have a complete, 8 hours of sleep a day without fail.

As it turns out, Cyprus only uses his gadgets for work or for research on where to go, or date ideas. Not even for navigation, he used old-fashioned paper maps for that. His screen time is unbelievably low, you wonder if he's actually a modern man or someone from the pre-smartphone era.

Cyprus began to have a "candy drawer" at work, where he would offer sweet treats to nobody but you.

You think he's using that as a substitute for smoking during hours when he couldn't assault your mouth with his, putting actual work into quitting his habit. It's almost admirable, you just wish that he didn't rope you into it as well. You missed your phone badly.

From there, you found out that his favorite candies are mostly cinnamon-flavoured or chewy liquorice sticks. Oddly enough, you couldn't taste whatever he ate when you and he mashed kissers. There is a faint hint of cinnamon, but the licorice isn't there. There was a moderately intense scent of mint, though.

Now everyone in the office knows that you and Cyprus are a pair. Even those from other departments and floors knew not to steal you away from him. Because he once caught someone from marketing flirting with you, he was then let go a few days later. You and your coworkers knew he had something to do with it since he kept entering his supervisor's office with a stack of papers.

You took a peek at them once, their account balances, supposedly serving as evidence that his rival was embezzling company funds with the help of someone in Finance.

There was a new hire that tried to make moves on you. Cyprus made it very clear that you were his by interrupting the conversation with a passionate kiss on your lips. He then barked at the newbie to leave you alone. It's now a must to tell all newcomers about your relationship with Cyprus, and why he isn't to be messed with.

It's very different from the usual, stoic, and professional Cyprus the office once knew. On all matters relating to work or otherwise, he still maintains that frosty, quiet, and monotonous exterior. But when it comes to you? The message is clear: Do not touch his woman. Even looking at you wrongly will cause him to try and sabotage their career.

Your coworkers used that new feature to their advantage. If they wanted to find him for something (Ie., regarding the annual financial report, discuss an error from his side, politics, etc.), all they needed to do was find you and exchange a couple of words. Cyprus will then appear to manifest out of thin air to possessively protect his territory.

They knew not to abuse it too much, though. A man tried to summon him through you one time too many, he came back from lunch late, with an eye swollen shut, a bloody nose, some teeth knocked out of his mouth and bruises all over his body. When quizzed about what happened, he refused to say anything to anyone and refused to press charges on his anonymous assailant. He avoided your gaze and ran away whenever you tried talking to him. Shortly after, he transferred departments and you never saw him around again.

You still didn't know what he said to Jane to make her deathly afraid of him. To this date, she hasn't tried anything with you; allowing you to go home at 5 pm sharp and holding her tongue whenever you made a mistake.

You have come to know a lot about him since he likes talking; sharing about himself and knowing more about you. Unfortunately, Cyprus remarked how embarrassing it is that you have nothing to say about yourself except to describe what you see online. And you didn't realize what you did until he pointed it out, which kept you up at night reflecting on your life so far.

He has friends that he would regularly talk about, they were who you would think Cyprus would associate with: Loud, brash, and sharing a mutual hatred for work and their superiors.

You couldn't remember the names of his closest friends, maybe it's because you believed that this relationship between him and you wouldn't last long. However, you do know he has three best friends, all male.

Today, he's bringing you to meet them in the same pub where you first ate dinner with him. Of course, you didn't want to go. He had to drag you into his car, hissing and spitting as usual. You felt insulted that he would be nonchalant, carrying you without being visibly affected by your hits. As if you're his inanimate suitcase.

When the car starts moving, you would turn docile. Not wanting him to crash or injure yourself by jumping out. He would always have a victorious grin on his face, knowing that he won once again.

You're nervous because you already don't like Cyprus. You couldn't imagine dealing with three more, it might just cause a blood vessel in your forehead to pop. Your boyfriend tried reassuring you by rubbing your thigh while he drove. No matter how you press against the door to try and get away from his grabby hands, he will always reach you.

Reaching the pub, he parked in a spot but told you to wait in the car for a while. It didn't take long until the deafening noises of motorbikes made you shut your ears with your hands. You peered out the window to see three, black and sleek motorcycles pull up around Cyprus's cars. Their drivers all wore leather jackets with customized helmets, and a feminine figure was behind each one, which you assume was his buddies' girlfriends.

They excitedly hopped off their vehicles and started knocking on Cyprus's windows. You cower deeper into your seat in fear as Cyprus rolls them down.

"What the hell, Cy? Just got out of work or something?" One of his friends stuck his arm into the window and pressed on the honk, making you wince at the sudden loudness.

"Yeah, what's with the car? We always come here with our bikes!" Another one slapped the top of Cyprus's car.

"Don't tell us you agreed to work overtime!" The last one jabbed Cyprus in the head, causing your boyfriend to jab his friend's head back.

"Oh my god! Is that her? She's so cute!" The women gushed at you as they took off their helmets. "Hi! What's your name?" You squirmed uncomfortably when they all jutted their hands inside the car to squeeze your cheeks, stroke your hair, and tickle your chin. You felt so violated, already at the brink of tears as their girlfriends continued taking turns petting you.

"Get the fuck away from my car, all of you!" Roared Cyprus, he was so loud that your ear temporarily rang. You couldn't imagine what it was like for his friends that are right next to him.

They backed off, but it didn't seem like they were surprised or upset. Instead, they were giggling and smiling at each other. Is it normal for Cyprus to lose his temper like this?

He stormed out of his car and started yelling at his friends and their partners. "What the fuck is wrong with all of you? I told you all to behave, look at what you did to my girl!" Cyprus marched up to your door, glowering at the women in the process.

He opened the door and cupped your cheeks, wiping away the tears that you didn't know were falling from your eyes.

"Aw... We're sorry." The women had a guilty and sympathetic look on their faces. The men awkwardly looked away and scratched the back of their heads.

"Give me a moment to talk to them, doll." He murmured, tenderly kissing you on the forehead before turning around to scowl at his friends.

All six of them already knew where Cyprus wanted them to go, it was like watching a dog herding sheep into a secluded place.

You watched Cyprus yell at them harshly while their gazes were downcast, it seemed like the girlfriends got more scolding than the men. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you spotted that it almost seemed like they were trying to stifle a laugh while being torn a new one by Cyprus. Are they not afraid of him? Do they not respect him, or is this just their dynamic?

He stomped back to you once he was done flaming their asses, while the rest went into the pub.

Cyprus sighed as he shook his head in disapproval, he unbuckled your belt and held onto your hand.

"Come on, let's go in."

You're seated next to your boyfriend at a large table, and one of the girlfriends excitedly takes the chair beside you. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

Now that you had a closer look, you noticed that the women wore beautiful and stylish clothes, had long, healthy hair, had long, acrylic nails on, and their thick makeup looked like it was applied by a professional.

The first ten minutes were spent catching up between the men and their partners, joking around. You were too intimidated to participate, opting to anxiously grip your pint of beer and pretending to drink, so you wouldn't need to speak. All that anger and rage from Cyprus evaporated, he is much more playful and animated now, yet equally as loud as his friends.

You had to jam your fingers into your ear canal to bear with the explosive environment.

"Oh, what about this cutie right here? We didn't even catch your name, and we made you cry. Poor thing." Dread washed over you as the girl next to you suddenly brought all seven pairs of eyes on you.

You took a deep breath as everyone fell silent, waiting for your response. Eventually, you stammered your name.

There was a beat of silence, followed by one of the men cheering excitedly, and then all of them joined in, boisterously welcoming you into the circle.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, this is going to be a long night...

Each of them fought to ask you questions about yourself, cutting each other off and speaking at the same time. You couldn't tell who was saying what, and what was being said. It is just one big cacophony of voices.

Only when you brought your palms to your ears, Cyprus shouted one more time to shut everyone up.

"I told you all to fucking behave! We're leaving if you all can't stop acting like animals!" He berated.

You looked around, there were patrons throwing glances your way, but most of them didn't care. It didn't make the situation any less awkward for you.

"Aww... We're sorry." The woman next to you had her hand hovering over your head, about to patronizingly stroke your hair as if you were a leashed pet, but Cyprus slapped it away and glared at her.

She merely rolled her eyes at Cyprus and huffed, dramatically flopping onto her man's chest. Her boyfriend gave numerous kisses on the 'injured' hand as she mock sobbed.

Cyprus spoke for you, basic information about how you and he met. A simple description of your personality, but he did emphasize 'shy' more than twice. You wonder what their definition of 'Shy' meant.

The conversation revolved around you now, but you didn't say a word. Too afraid that you might excite them too much again. It was humiliating to be hiding under Cyprus's jacket while clinging onto him, but they were genuinely scary.

The woman next to you tried to touch you discretely, having her thigh brush yours, her fingers grazing your knee, her stocking-clad feet gently rubbing your calf up and down. Driving you closer and closer to Cyprus until you're positively pressed up against him.

Whenever you looked back at her, she would have this gleeful smile. Well, all the girlfriends had this same look on them whenever you paid them any attention. It's as if they're overcome by cuteness aggression, since they're mildly gyrating in their seats as soon as you made eye contact.

There was a point where they chatted amongst themselves while Cyprus took a couple of sips from his beer. You tugged on his shirt to catch his attention.

"Yes, princess?" He cooed, craning his neck down so he could hear you.

You told him that you want to go home. You don't like his friends, especially their overly friendly partners.

He frowned. He opened his mouth to say something, but one of his friends decided to pipe up.

"Hey! Share with the class, what the hell are you two talking about?"

"She speaks!? We have got to hear it!"

"Come on, Cy! Let us in!"

He slammed his fist on the table, silencing everyone once again and causing a bit of their beers to spill.

"That's it." He growled, rising up from his seat and holding you tight. "We're leaving."

All six of them began whining loudly, pawing at Cyprus and yourself, begging you both to stay.

"You all can fuck off to hell." He spat, whipping out enough cash to cover the beers for you and him.

"Come on, doll. We're going home."

He stared at you, waiting for you to lead the way.

However, you thought about it. Maybe they meant well; just a little too eager to know you. Maybe you could get more information about him through his friends, perhaps you could act like the opposite of his type.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #female reader #tw afab reader #male yandere #male yandere oc

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cicerfics · 5 months ago

Text

Q's 10 Favorite Jumpers, Rated and Reviewed By 007

With Rebuttals (and Revised Rebuttals) from the Quartermaster Himself

Gifted to @foxsoulcourt over on Station Pacific, just for being awesome!

Fits Q like a glove and the shade sets off Q's lovely winter complexion. 9/10.

Didn't this ridiculous business of seasonal color analysis go out when I was still in primary school? You're dating yourself, 007.

Well, somebody has to, since you wouldn't let me take you out for a drink last night.

...

Color less garish than usual, but fuzzy texture makes Q look like he's growing mold. Off-putting. At least, as off-putting as is possible for a man of Q's caliber. 6/10.

It's mohair, you heathen, not mold!

And stop talking about my 'caliber' if you

...

The color washes out your complexion. You ought to stick to darker shades, dear. Still, this one fits you snugly and the knit is thin enough that I can see your nipples when it's chilly in the server room. 8/10, it'd look even better on my bedroom floor.

You are no longer allowed in the server room when I'm in there, effective immediately, lest I file a complaint with Human Resources. Stop looking at my nipples. (And there's a phrase I never thought I'd have to use when addressing a colleague at Her Majesty's Secret Service.)

I live to defy expectations.

Color does marvelous things for Q's eyes but the squiggles give me vertigo. 5/10.

Get your eyes checked, old man, and stop blaming my jumpers for your vision difficulties!

Ranking has dropped to 4/10 due to Q's insolence. Be nicer to me, or I'll be the one to file a complaint with HR. Age discrimination is against regulations, my dear.

Stop calling me that

I don't really think you're that old

You do need reading glasses though

I never thought I'd see the day 007 cites regulations to me.

Why are there so many bars and blocks? Why isn't the jumper one harmonious shade of gray? Atrocious. 3/10.

It's comfortable

It reminds me of that time you

Don't lie, I've caught you looking at me when I was wearing th

It's considered artistic, 007, but of course you wouldn't know anything about that.

Grand old warship, Q. Nothing more.

Don't be ridiculous, of course you're more than

...

Reminds me of my grandfather. Deeply disturbing that I still want to shag Q even when he dresses like my grandfather. 2/10, will be reporting the quartermaster to Dr. Wilson for damaging my psyche.

You will do no such thing. That poor woman has enough to bear as it is. Overseeing your routine psych screenings is enough to warrant hazard pay.

I've caught you looking at me in this one too

You don't own this one, but you should. Let me buy it for you, darling. 10/10, would tug you into a broom cupboard during your lunch hour and undo the buttons with my teeth.

What is your obsession with Tom Ford

I don't see why

You say things like this but then you never follow throu

Why did you cancel our dinner the other nigh

I am not the sort of gentleman who permits himself to be despoiled in broom cupboards, thank you very much.

Puts me in mind of those odd little sailor suits posh people used to make their children wear. I think someone put me in one, once, ages ago. 1/10, you already look young enough to make me feel like a filthy old man, no need to make it worse.

I wouldn't mind if you were a bit 'filthier', actua

Well, if the shoe fits.

And you scold me about wasting money with damaged equipment and bloodied suits. Look at the price tag on this. Outrageous. 10/10, worth every penny, you're delectable in this one.

I only bought it to treat myself after

It was my birthday and i

You said you were taking me out for dinner for the occasion but then you

…Thank you.

I'd ask what I've done to deserve this torture, but I suppose I already know the answer to that. 0/10, I will have burned this one by the time you've read this list, and I apologize for nothing.

You know exactly what you've done, yes.

Three million pounds of my department funding for heaven's sake

Not to mention the fact that you canceled our dinner after I

And I hardly bought this to torture you. I don't buy my clothes with you in mind, 007. Don't be so arrogant.

And if that isn't an empty threat and you've actually broken into my flat and destroyed my personal property, I'll have your head.

My. How forward of you, Q. Well, I'll have to insist you take me out to dinner first. Then you can have whatever bits of me you like.

Don't be vulgar, you menace.

Not unless you're going to follow through on

You're the one who backed out of the dinn

Did you really burn it?

It was a threat to national security. Could sear a man's eyes right out of his skull. It had to go.

The cats agreed with me. They didn't put up any protest when I pilfered from your wardrobe.

For heaven's sake.

Then they're getting their least favorite flavor of tinned food for supper. And you're not getting dinner from me at all.

Now, I hope I'm not being punished for cancelling on you last week.

Of course I'm not

I don't see why you

You

...

You're being punished for wasting your day reviewing my jumpers rather than completing your overdue AARs. Please allow me to direct your attention to the rather large pile of paperwork with your name on it.

Sod the paperwork.

Q. I'm sorry I cancelled. You have no idea how sorry. But something came up.

I'm sure it did.

Something to do with the job.

...

Some internal business. Something had to be taken care of.

Somebody had to be taken care of.

...

Mallory told me not to discuss it with any of the department heads just yet. I handled it, but the job won't be declassified until tomorrow. Expect Tanner to call you and the others in for a meeting in the morning.

...Oh.

Well.

You should've told me sooner.

Q, I'm shocked! You're saying I should've gone against Mallory's direct orders and disclosed classified material to you against his will?

Of course that what I'm saying, you filthy hypocrite. You could've told me. I would've been discreet.

I know you would've been. That's not the point.

...

...Bond?

I'm trying to keep you out of trouble these days.

Trying not to be the man who ruins your career.

You've never

If that's how you feel then why

Even if you did, I'd

Rather unflattering that you assume I can't take care of myself.

I can, I'll have you know. And I never asked you to protect me. I can protect myself...and I can protect you in the bargain, thank you very much. I'm rather good at it, in fact.

Well, I can't argue with you there.

...

...?

Suppose we don't wait for tomorrow's meeting.

Suppose I take you out to dinner and tell you all about the whole sordid business tonight.

...You're planning on disclosing confidential intel in the middle of an Italian restaurant?!

Suppose we skip the restaurant.

Suppose I bring a couple of curries round to your flat and we talk about it there.

The flat you recently burglarized.

Let's not dwell on the past, dear.

Besides, I think the cats are warming up to me.

And I've got an overdue birthday present for you.

...Dare I ask what it is?

A replacement for the jumper I burned. A whole new ensemble, in fact.

Something much better than anything in your wardrobe. Much worthier of you. Something to show off those good looks of yours.

Will you let me give it to you this evening?

...Ah.

Well, I was going to ask what I should wear when you come over, since you have such strong opinions on the matter.

But if you're bringing a new outfit along, perhaps I shouldn't bother to put anything on at all?

Darling, I always said you were a genius.

19:00 tonight, your place. I'd say 'dress to impress', but I think your idea is best.

There's no improving on perfection, after all.

Do you really

I want you to

For God's sake, if you don't make good on your promises this time, I'll

19:00, then. I trust you know the address

Please try to be on time, 007.

For you, Q?

I'll be early.

#007 fest 2024 #00q #my fest creations #james bond #station atlantic #silliness

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livesworthlivingau · 6 months ago

Text

Behind the Vale Chapter 7-10

ISAT/Two Hats Spoilers, CW: Implied Suicidal Thoughts

[You walk… You've been walking for days… Your feet are sore, you legs feel like they're on fire. Your stomach aches… You thought you might be looping at first, until you remembered what hunger was… You haven't had the need for food, or water, or sleep for so long… You'd forgotten what all of that felt like, and now you're painfully aware of all of it again. What would happen if you died anyways?... Would you both loop back?... Would you just be dead until he loops? You summon your dagger into your hand, stopping in your tracks and staring at it... Would you?... Could you, even?... You stare at the curved blade for longer than you realize.]

"CRAB!" [You hear a shout that snaps you out of it. You rush towards the sound of heavy thuds, leaves rustling, a shriek... a sadness?! You break through the tree line to see it, standing over a figure on the ground. Their hammer tossed to the side, holding a hand up defensively as it's just about to strike! NO!]

[The sadness freezes, stuck just before landing a blow on the figure... then fades away, revealing you behind it. Your eyes wide, panting heavily, dagger held at the end of a flourish... You look down at the figure. You start to lean forward to offer a hand up, before exhaustion takes over. Everything goes dark as you collapse.]

-----------------------------------------------------

[Your vision slowly returns... You're on the ground, it's night time. The crackling of a fire fills your ears. The scent of wood burning, and broth boiling fill your lack of a nose. You feel a blanket covering your body, slipping down as you try to sit up.]

"Woah woah! Easy now, buddy!" [You hear to your side, noticing the dark skinned figure that had been sitting beside you. She gently pushes your weak form back to laying down. Her long hair in a braid that reaches the middle of her back. She's dressed in loose, breezy, coastal style clothing. Something about her feels oddly familiar...]

"You gotta get your strength back before you'll be up and at 'em again." [She instructs, taking a bowl and ladle to scoop some of the soup and bring it over to you. She hesitates...]

"Uhhh... How do you... eat?" [She asks, gesturing to her mouth, and clearly noting your lack of one. You just give a light roll of your eyes, sitting up slow enough that she'd allow it. You take the bowl and bring it to your face. It presses against your hidden lips and you pour it down your throat. The still steaming fluid burns your insides, but nowhere near as bad as a star once had. What does cause a sudden choke though is the taste. You'd forgotten what food tasted like... and if this was it you think you'd be better off not being reminded...]

"Heh... I know, I'm sorry, my sibling's the real chef. I can barely make cereal without screwing it up, but it's all I got right now and you're about to starve to death." [She remarks in a demanding tone. She's right, and you're so hungry it makes ignoring the taste easier, just pouring the rest of it directly down your throat and letting out a relieved, steaming sigh.]

"... Thank you..."

"Ah! So you can talk! Well thank you uhhh... Glowey person? If you hadn't come along when you did I don't know what would have happened." [You sit there in silence for a while until suddenly the sibling comment clicks.]

"Sibling?"

"Oh! Yeah! I'm looking for my little sibling. Their name's Bonnie, real little, looks a bit like me, wears a big poofy hat. They managed to get away when I got frozen, and apparently I heard they're travelling with the saviors themselves?! I've been trying to find them ever since I got unfrozen." [… This really is some sick, cosmic joke, isn't it?...]

"... You're... Nille. Petronille."

"Y-Yeah! How'd you... Wait, do you know them too?!"

"I... I travelled with them for a little while, they talked about you all the time." [Her face lights up with joy and awe, so happy to finally meet someone who actually knows about Bonnie instead of just rumors and tales.]

"That's wonderful! I can't believe my luck today! So what's your name anyways? I gotta know how to properly address my knight in shining face!" [She snickers to herself, holding out a hand to shake as a more formal introduction. You stare at it for a moment, your own approaches it almost in slow motion. You need a name... a real name... you can't just be 'wonderful little loop' anymore after all...]

"... I'm... Vale [They/Them]… It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Nille."

"Likewise, Vale!... Now if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing out here? You look like you've been running for a while..." [Her tone suddenly shifts. She recognizes something in you in this moment... and you start to recall some of the stories Bonnie had told you.]

[No-NO! You're getting too vulnerable, your mask is slipping... Get a hold of yourself Lo-... *ahem* Vale. You shake the pathetic look off your face, your strength starting to return with the soup in your system now. You give those bright cheery eyes you're so practiced in.]

"Oh you know~! Just went out for a stroll and got rather carried away~."

"... Riiiiight... Well, where 'ya headed? You know I'm looking for Bonnie but I don't exactly have the best idea where they're at. I got lucky with you twice already, maybe a third time'll happen if you'll let me join yah!" [You scream internally as you do your best to keep up your poker face.]

"O-Of course! I don't have a destination in mind yet, but how could I say no to the famous Nille!" [What are YOU DOING?! We are heading in the OPPOSITE direction!]

"Great! And don't worry, I'll pick up some food in the next town so you're not stuck at my cooking pot's mercy the whole time" [She laughed to herself, chipping in a slight chuckle of your own... Okay... Okay we can do this... Even if we do help her, who knows how long until we run into them all again? We'll feel Stardust nearby, we can just leave before they reunite! We get to be lovely helpful L-Vale and we don't need to see them all again... We can make this work...]

#lives worth living au #lwlau #isat au #isat spoilers #isat fanfic #isat #two hat spoilers #isat two hats #in stars and time fanfic #in stars and time spoilers #btvau #behind the vale

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roses-r-rosie3 · 1 year ago

Text

Bad Idea Right?

Jason Todd x M!Reader

[Spill Ur Guts MasterList]

Warnings: Implied sex, Reader sleeping with his ex (aka Jason)🫢, Swearing, drinking, Fluff-ish??

Summary: After partying a bit too hard, the reader wakes up in his bed, and finds Jason (HIS EX) laying right next to him naked

F/n = Friend’s Name

Quote: “Yeah, like I would want everyone to know that I put my dick inside of my ex"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You woke up with a jolt, and immediately got a major headache. You plopped on your bed with a groan, but something felt off… YOU WERE FUCKING NAKED?!

What the hell happened?!

Oh right, you threw a party at your house because your parents were out of town. But what happened afterwards? Great, now you have to try and piece together what happened.

First, you were setting up with your friends, people started showing up… what the hell happened after that though?

Flashback

“Hey y/n! Look who it is!” Your friend laughed.

You looked up and WHAT THE HELL?! Why the fuck was Jason there?! You didn’t even invite him! You were about to go confront him but your friends held you back.

“He’s not worth it y/n, he probably just got invited by someone else, don’t focus on him, just have fun” your friend reassured.

“Fine” you grumbled.

Next thing you knew, you drank at least not one not two not three, but four drinks! You were drunk out of your mind and you were about to go get your fifth one.

“Y/n, are you sure you should be drinking this much? I know your parents are out of town and all, but this is getting pretty concerning” your friend asked.

“It’s fine f/n! Another drink wouldn’t hurt!” You slurred.

You made your way towards the drink area, and low and behold, Jason was there. You ignored him the best you could, even as a drunk idiot. But as you were done pouring your drink into your cup, you bumped into Jason, spilling your drink on both you and him.

“What the fuck is your problem dude!” You yelled at him.

“Me?! You spilled your drink onto me!” Jason shouted defensively, obviously also a bit drunk.

You looked to the ground, knowing you were somewhat in the wrong.

“So are you just gonna stand there and look dumb or are you gonna show me where the towels are?” Jason said.

“Shut up” you murmured as you lead him to the restroom.

You opened the door and picked up a towel for you and him and started to wipe your clothes. It was silent for a good 5 minutes until you spoke up.

“Why are you even at this party to begin with” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“Did you forget that I have friends too or something?” Jason chuckled.

“So you didn’t know that the party was coincidentally held at my place, the place that you visited for more than 10 times?” You questioned.

“I just read that it was a party okay?!” Jason grumbled.

“Oh sure” you said sarcastically.

That just lead to a heated argument between the two of you. Things got heated and the next thing you knew, Jason was pinning you onto the bathroom wall and you two were sloppily making out.

"For the record this doesn't mean we're back together" You panted as you both pulled away.

"Well no shit sherlock" Jason mumbled before pulling you back in for another kiss.

After what was 8 minutes of making out, you finally broke the kiss.

"Let's finish this in my room yeah?" you smirked.

Jason just nodded before the two of you came into your room, locked the door and did stuff that required you not being seen at the party for the rest of the night.

End of flashback

Did you just sleep with your ex?! Wait.. you never remembered Jason leaving to go back at his place which meant.. wait.. no.. it couldn't be. You turned around and faced a figure, maybe this isn't him, maybe it's another guy you slept with after Jason, but you knew those tattoos from anywhere.

"HOLY SHIT!" You yelled out unintentionally.

Needless to say, that woke up Jason for sure. Jason rubbed his eyes sleepily, readjusting his vision to see where he was. He immediately recognized the room and hoped that you weren't the one who woke him up. But hope could only go so far, and he was met with your shocked/disgusted face.

"We're not telling ANYONE about this. You understand?" you threatened.

"Yeah, like I would want everyone to know that I put my dick inside of my ex" Jason said sarcastically as both you and him got out of your bed to change.

"How do you know I wasn't the top?! Hell we were both drunk!" you said defensively.

"I'm not the one with the limp" Jason smirked.

"You know what... uhh.. j-just get out!" you shouted.

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toomuchracket · 1 year ago

Text

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty".

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you.

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever.

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

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