#‘maybe once you get a little distance you’ll miss them one day’

[robertsbarbie]

me telling my mother i think i actually want to do stuff for my birthday this year versus her casually saying she’s leaving for texas tomorrow or wednesday because she feels like my brother needs her 🧍🏼‍♀️

[f1goat]

not a chance + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando thinks he's going to win a race, to which you tell him the chances of you two fucking are as low as him winning a race - so what happens when he wins?

lando norris x fem!sainz reader tw: smut + not proof read (as usual)

masterlist - playlist

“I think this is going to be my day,” Lando tells your brother, Carlos, with a confident tone in his voice. “Maybe I’ll actually win today.”

You can’t help yourself and let out a soft laugh. “As if,” you mutter softly. You don’t expect anyone to pay attention to you, let alone hear your comment, but while looking at Lando you’re quick to realize that he did hear you. He is sending you an annoyed glare, while Carlos tries to tell you without words that you should shut up. Bit too late for that now. 

“Don’t believe me babygirl?” Lando asks you. The earlier confidence in his voice has disappeared and made place for a sarcastic tone, one Lando only uses with you. “Nope,” you say, making sure that you’re popping the p. 

“I’m not doing this again,” Carlos sighs while looking at his little sister and one of his best friends. Lando and you both know what he’s talking about, but neither of you is backing away. Lando is even getting closer towards you. “I’ll see you later,” Carlos continues, “hopefully after the two of you finally fixed the fucking sexual tension between you two.” 

It’s not a secret that Lando and you don’t like each other. You don’t know how it happened, where you were once almost as close with him as Carlos, things changed between you two. Friendly conversations changed into sarcastic, mean remarks meant to hurt to other one. Meeting up when Carlos couldn’t join changed into only seeing each other when Carlos dragged the both of you in the same place. Always texting with each other, sending memes towards each other eventually changed into ignoring each other on every social platform. 

Whatever happened to cause the change between Lando and you, has never been clear to you. Sometimes you blame yourself for taking a bit more distance when Lando got his first girlfriend, but eventually it was Lando who really changed his attitude towards you. Sometimes you miss how it was before, or better said every time you see Lando you miss how it was before. Even if you were fighting your feelings for him, it was better then acting like you hate him. Of course you don’t hate Lando, how could you - especially after crushing on him for the longest time. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the text that’s coming in. It’s from Carlos. When you’re done toying with Lando, I’m at Ferrari. Saved you a seat. You should go to him now, that would be the smart thing to do. But Lando is still standing closely in front of you. Carlos believes that something else is going on between Lando and you, something that’s according to him caused by romantic feelings, but according to you that’s bullshit. Your crush on Lando doesn’t exist anymore, right? 

“Funny to see the girl who believed in you the most turn into one of your biggest haters,” Lando mutters annoyed. He truly feels betrayed by the way you’re talking about him and the upcoming race. He means his earlier words. Sometimes he wonders how things would be between you two if he did some things different. A lot changed when he was dating his ex girlfriend, changes he can’t undo but he wants to fix them. If you’ll let him.

“Not a hater,” you reply, “just a realist.” 

“Just watch me babygirl,” Lando says, “I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.”

“And after the podium I’ll find you and show you what else I can do,” Lando continues. He almost sounds dangerous. It causes you to feel flustered. What is he talking about? 

“The chances of you’re winning the race are as low as the chances of us going to fuck,” you tell him as if it’s a fact, while in reality you’re not so sure about yourself. 

“Seems like a good celebration, I’ll find you after the race,” Lando says, he has found his confidence back. 

“You’re crazy,” you sigh, “I’m not listening to this any longer.”

“See you after the race babygirl,” Lando says when you walk away from him.

“You won’t.” 

+++

Fuck. Did this actually happen? You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you’re looking at Lando who’s screaming from happiness while getting out of his car. How did he actually win todays race? What does this mean? What is going to happen now? Is Lando expecting that you’ll have sex with him now? Fuck. 

You see the way your brother is hugging with Lando, how happy he is for his friend. It makes you think about how you felt before. Every time Lando stood on the podium you’d beam with pride, you love(d) seeing him on the podium. It was you who always told Lando that he would be standing on the top step soon and that you’d be there to celebrate with him. How things changed. 

While looking at Lando who’s still celebrating with his team, you think back about the day things really went wrong between Lando and you. It has been months before it all crashed down, months filled up with weird tension and uncomfortable moments. Which all started when Lando got a girlfriend. You can’t blame him for that, you still don’t, but you just didn’t like her. Maybe it was because of your crush on Lando, maybe it was because his girlfriend sensed something and made sure that Lando and you couldn’t spend any time together anymore. 

“You don’t get it Lando,” you tell him, “I never get to see you anymore, you’re always busy and don’t make time for me anymore. What changed? Are you bored of me? Am I not fun enough to be your friend anymore?” 

“No, that’s not it,” Lando quickly says, “I just don’t have the time anymore.”

“You seem to have time for everyone expect for me,” you bitterly state, “I’m not stupid, I see how you’re traveling all around the world to meet up with every friend you have.”

“It’s different,” Lando defends himself. 

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” you sigh, “since you’re in a relationship everything changed between us.” 

Lando knew at that moment that he should tell you the truth. How he only agreed to his relationship so he could forget about his feelings for you, but he doesn’t dare to say so. And now he’s in a relationship with a weird influencer who seems to hate you and who doesn’t ‘allow’ him to see you anymore. He really should break up with her, but what will happen then?

“It’s just that she doesn’t like you,” Lando eventually tells you, “and as her boyfriend I need to chose her side, I guess?”

“So that’s it? Your girlfriend, from two months, doesn’t like me so you just decided to stop spending time with me, your friend from multiple years?” You ask confused. This time you don’t wait for Lando to continue. “That’s just, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. Good to know my worth,” you continue sadly. 

After his confession which still wasn’t the whole story, Lando didn’t know what to say anymore. He watched how you left, but didn’t follow you to make things right. Maybe it’s for the better for now. There’s nothing he can do for now. He has a girlfriend, he needs to forget about his feelings for you and move on. 

Two hours later he broke up with his girlfriend, but then he was already blocked by you. 

After Lando celebrated with his team, almost all the other drivers and everyone else who congratulated him, you’re waiting for him to get on the podium. You feel weird while watching Lando on the podium. There’s a part of you who’s incredibly proud of him, a part that wants nothing more then to run over to Lando and hug him and tell him how proud you are of him. The other side of you is only thinking about what will happen next. 

When Lando is standing on the podium, you can’t stop thinking about how hot he looks. When Carlos finds his place next to you and watches Lando with you, he notices the way you keep looking at his best friend. “I really wouldn’t be mad if there would happen something between Lando and you,” Carlos tells you for the millionth time. “You’re crazy,” you reply annoyed. 

What Carlos and you both don’t notice is the way Lando is looking for you from the podium. When you look up again, you lock eyes with Lando. He sends you a wink. Fuck. 

After the podium you walk away together with Carlos, you want nothing more then get back to the hotel and sleep. This day was confusing and long, you can’t wait for it to end. Lando notices you walking away, without thinking about it he walks away from the press and starts to get towards you. He hurries and almost runs towards you. When he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter when you feel someone grabbing your arm. Surprised you stop walking and look behind you. You don’t even know if you are surprised or not when you notice that it’s Lando. 

“You’re coming with me,” Lando tells you with a stern voice. Carlos looks confused at the two of you. You can only sigh. What are you going to say to this? You really don’t know. Slowly you nod at Lando, confusing your brother only more. Lando is quick to say a goodbye to Carlos and starts to walk off with you. 

+++

Lando dropped you in his drivers room. He still has media duties, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave in the mean time. While giving interviews and talking with everyone, his mind is focused on you. He can only hope that you’re still waiting for him. 

In the mean time you keep thinking about what to do. You’re stressed out because of everything that’s happening. What will happen when Lando comes back from his interviews? Are the two of you going to talk things out and finally make it right? Or are you going to fight? Or is Lando actually for real and does he wants to fuck you? 

Eventually the stress makes you crazy. You decide to call your brother. Who knows for how long Lando is busy, you really need to talk with someone about this and who’s better then one of Lando his best friends? You know that your brother knows about your earlier feelings for Lando, so you can only hope that he will help you now. What if your feelings return? Or better said, what if you finally realize that they have never left?

“Carlos you really need to help me,” you start to speak when Carlos picks up.

“No, no, you need to tell me what’s going on between Lando and you! He left an interview to pick you up and now he’s doing interviews again? Where are you?” Carlos reacts.

“I’m in his drivers room,” you confess, “but I don’t know what will happen between us.” After that you explain to your brother what happened earlier today when he left Lando and you alone. Carlos chuckles when you tell him about Lando his bold replies. 

“What do you want to happen?” Carlos asks you eventually.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. 

“You do know,” Carlos replies, “you’re just not honest to yourself. But we both know that you’re still in love with Lando.”

Before you can react to those words, Lando is entering his drivers room. You can only pray that he didn’t hear anything from what Carlos just said. “Lando’s here,” you tell Carlos on the phone, “I’ll talk to you later.” Before hanging up you hear Carlos say something childish in the lines of ‘doing it safe’. As if Lando wants something like that to happen you think annoyed.

“What am I doing here Lando?” You ask. 

“I’m getting my reward,” Lando tells you with a small smirk on his face. 

“Your reward?” You ask confused. 

“The chances of you winning the race are as low as the chances of us having sex,” Lando speaks up, “Remember those words babygirl?” 

“What do you want Lando?” You ask him. 

“You.”

Lando his answer makes you shiver. His following movements make it only worse. Without giving it a second thought, Lando pulls you into himself. His finger is under your chin, softly lifting it up for himself. He looks you into your eyes, searching for some sort of approval before he continues with his movements. When you show him a quick nod, he’s sure about it. Lando presses his lips against yours. 

Fuck, you can’t remember the last time a kiss felt so good. Now that you think of it, a kiss probably never felt this good before. It feels like everything is finally falling into it’s place. Lando pulls you as close into himself as he can manage. Your lips don’t leave his. When you feel Lando his hands on your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Lando feels it vibrate against his own. Slowly he pulls back from you. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he doesn’t stop looking at you. 

“What is it babygirl?” He asks you. It’s the first time in a year that the nickname feels sweet instead of sarcastic. 

“Do something please,” you beg. 

Lando is quick to respond to your pleas. His hands find your body. Slowly he explores your curves while he presses some soft kisses on your neck, shoulders and face in the mean time. When Lando his hands are getting lower, you’re quick to lift up your skirt for him. Lando smirks when he notices it. 

“What do you want me to do?” Lando asks you. 

“If you can win,” you softly say, “then you also can fuck me I guess.”

This time Lando doesn’t hide his excitement anymore. He shows you an enthusiastic grin and moves away from you. Before you can complain, he’s already sitting in front of you. He takes off your skirt and starts to trace figures onto your still clothed cunt. He feels how your string is already damp. 

“You guess?” Lando asks you. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him, “just fuck me already.”

Lando removes your string from your body. He moves his head closely to your cunt and presses a soft kiss against your clit. He’s in conflict with himself, he wants to take his time with you and show you exactly what he has to offer but he also just wants to fuck you right now until the both of you are lost for words. 

“Lan,” you whimper.

“Can’t I take my time with you babygirl?” Lando asks you teasingly. In the mean time he pulls down his race suit and boxers. 

“Next time,” you reply.

It makes Lando’s heart miss a beat. You’re thinking about a next time? His smile gets bigger again. He pulls you closer to him and aligns his dick with your entrance. You grab his hair in the mean time and try to get Lando closer towards yourself so you can kiss him again. When Lando lets his dick enter your body, it causes you to let out a loud moan. 

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “waited fucking four years to feel this.”

You barely hear him. Lando his words surprise you. Four years ago the two of you just met. At that time Carlos just got Lando as his new teammate. What does Lando mean with this. Before you can make things more clear for yourself, Lando continues to speak.

“Always wanted to fuck you,” Lando grunts, “Always thought about fucking you.”

Does this mean what you think it means? 

“What about..” You start to ask. “Don’t say her name,” Lando is quick to interrupt you. How does he already know that you’re talking about his ex? “Only got with her so I could forget you,” he confesses. 

“Fuck,” you moan, you don’t know but after Lando his sudden confession the sex feels even ten times better then before. “Always wanted you to fuck me as well,” you confess. 

That makes Lando slow down. 

“Waited four years for you,” you continue to confess.

This time Lando stops moving inside of you. 

“Are you serious babygirl?” Lando asks confused. 

“Yes,” you softly tell Lando, “I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.”

Lando grins, “That’s good,” he says, “Really good.” He picks up his earlier pace and continues to fuck you. When the both of you reached your high, Lando carefully pulls back. He pulls you onto himself. Holding you as close towards himself as he can. 

“Four years right?” You ask Lando. 

“Four years,” he replies with a nod. 

The both of you let out a soft laugh. Suddenly nobody cares about what happened between you two in the last year. Sure, you will talk about it some time. But not now. Lando presses a kiss against your cheek. 

“Did you really think I couldn’t get a win today?” Lando suddenly asks you. 

“Lan,” you softly say, “I always believed you could get a win everywhere.” 

“That’s a girlfriend thing to say,” Lando jokes, “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Do you want me to be?” 

“There’s nothing more I want to,” Lando confesses.

“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend,” you laugh. Lando kisses you again. 

“Let’s grab dinner with your brother,” Lando suggests, “and after that I want you in my hotel room so I can take my time with you.” 

“Deal.”

y/n: want to get dinner with me and my boyfriend?

y/n: he’s a race winner ;)

carlos: finally

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a crush on their best friend

Genre: overwhelmingly fluffy with a tiny bit of angst

A/N: I guess this is the next unofficial installment of the crush series. If you liked this, you might also like the SVT with a crush and SVT with a cautious crush/partner.

Seungcheol

You might have a guess because not a single partner you’ve ever had is good enough. He’s very protective and maybe even a little possessive. He tries to stuff down that second emotion because there’s no room for it in your friendship, but it will eat him alive inside that he can't have you. He’ll try to move on and date other people, but nothing really sticks. He represses the urge to say something to you because he feels like it’ll all be over the moment he does.

What would make him confess: Say you’re taking a recent breakup pretty hard. He supports you and is there for you, but has such little patience for you claiming that it’s all your fault. He’s blurting out something a little too close to a confession in the heat of the moment. To his credit, once it’s out though, it’s out and he won’t try to walk it back. If you feel the same, he’d be a little perturbed that he didn’t just say something sooner.

Jeonghan

You may never know, only because he is incredible at hiding it behind all of his joking and teasing. Is he making fun of you because he likes you or because he’s your worst enemy? Depends on the day it feels like. He really is okay with the way things are most days. He’s not a very jealous person, so he’ll act the same as he always does if he sees you with someone else. But if there was ever a hint of mutual attraction, he’d play into it in a heartbeat and it might lead to a FWB sort of thing. 

What would make him confess: He can’t really hide behind all of the jokes when he’s in bed with you. He finds himself bearing his soul without realizing it. He’ll try to walk it back later and say it’s no big deal, but would actually be pretty relieved if you felt the same.

Joshua

Your biggest supporter. Never misses your phone call or text and always shows up for plans. To be clear, he would have done that even if he didn’t have feelings for you, but he’s not going to squander a single opportunity to talk to you or spend time with you. This is one that might try to test the waters a bit as soon as he realizes his feelings and comes to terms with them. It’s not like he never touches you but his touches might begin to linger here and there. And it’s not like he never compliments you, but you’ll hear more of them than you usually do. 

What would make him confess: If testing the waters yields any results, he might find the right time to say something. If his touches or compliments fluster you or make you smile a little wider, he’ll keep it coming until it feels right. 

Jun

Gets a little distant after he has that ‘oh’ moment. He’s so confused by how he felt one way yesterday and another way today. He might hide a bit behind work as an excuse and when he can’t anymore, he does his best to not let his confusion for you show. But he’s awkward and you’re wondering what you’ve done to make him act this way. He’ll deny that he’s being awkward and the distance might grow even more. 

What would make him confess: If he hears you’re seeing someone else, it might drive him to finally say something. He’s initially hurt that you didn’t tell him you were seeing someone, but he knows he has no right because he’s been avoiding your calls and texts. Instead, he’s afraid he’s lost his chance AND ruined a friendship. He shows up at your door to recover what he can. In the word vomit of an apology, he might mention his feelings and he wouldn’t even realize he’s said it until you confirm your own feelings for him.

Hoshi

Talk about a 180. He goes from being glued to your side to blushing bright red at the smallest smile from you. The shift is undeniable and when you ask him if he’s feeling okay he stutters out a yes. You think it’s cute, but you don’t want to push him. He could never avoid you, but he’s such a nervous wreck around you lately that he’s kind of convinced he’s already ruined whatever shot he might have had. He’s so stressed about how dumb he looks in front of you that he’s not noticing how much you’re enjoying his newly-found crush and sometimes just doing those little things to see him flounder a bit. 

What would make him confess: Nothing. You’re going to have to do this part. He’ll be shocked and will need a minute to wrap his head around it. He walks away from that conversation in a daze so bad that he doesn’t even remember when you said your date was and he has to text you later to ask you.

Wonwoo

You may never know and that’s entirely by design. He sometimes acts like it’s a hard thing to be your friend, but please don’t be hurt by that. He just isn’t sure how to articulate how important you are to him. So he tends to wear an impassive mask around you, but it doesn’t fool you much because he still calls and texts and shows up to your hangouts and you know he wouldn’t do any of that if he didn’t care for you.

What would make him confess: This is another one where you’re going to have to do it. He’s not brave enough to wear his heart on his sleeves and risk getting rejected and ruining the friendship. But if you come to him with your heart on your sleeves? He’ll put your mind at ease in a split second. 

Woozi

Another one that wears a mask of exhaustion at being your friend. Well - not as much of a mask as you think, because it really is exahusting to JUST be your friend. He’s filled notebooks with lyrics about you and he always lets you read them. To his immense frustration, no matter how many little specific hints he puts in those lyrics, you never seem to get that it’s about you. His group members know and everytime he presents a new song to them, they ask if it worked. ‘No’, he’ll huff and try to move on with his day. Another song added to the stack. 

What would make him confess: He’s had a hard day of practice and comes over to relax. He plops his notebook into your lap and you’ll flip it open to read the newest entry. You’ll compliment him like you always do and tell him whoever it’s about is a lucky person and he’ll just lose it. He might call you dense in his passionate confession, but you’re too busy thinking about how many words fill this notebook and all the notebooks before. Needless to say, you’re touched once all of this clicks.

DK

Literally nothing changes when he realizes because he’s one of the sweetest people no matter what. He’s already spending all of his spare time with you and paying for your meals when you hang out and buying you little things that remind him of you. And he’s already pretty clingy with you. The only difference is that he might feel a little shy about initaiting that physical contact when he wasn’t shy about it before. 

What would make him confess: If you ever make a comment that he’s like this with everyone, he’ll question everything because he’s into YOU, not everyone else. He might even consult one of his members for advice because he’s afraid he’s been giving you the wrong impression ever since he’s realized his feelings. They’ll encourage him to just tell you how he feels. He’ll find an eloquent yet sweet way to say it and it’d be kind of crazy not to give him a chance since he was already acting like your boyfriend anyway.

Mingyu

Now he’s a bit of a jealous person. But he wasn’t always with you. Say you two like to set each other up or play wingman/wingwoman while you two are out. He’s set you up with someone dozens of times and rooted for you each time. But if one of those little hookups goes a little too well for you, he’s finding he wished he never introduced you to this new person. He flounders a little with these newfound feelings and might live in denial for a hot minute. 

What would make him confess: If this new person sticks around for even a moment too long, they’ll know it because Mingyu will be an absolute ass to them. If it runs them off and you get mad about it, he might just spill his guts. You’ll be surprised, but his jealousy is almost cute if only for the fact that you’ve never seen it before. 

Minghao

He’s on both team ‘you’ll never know’ and team ‘exhuasted to be your friend’. You know he cares for you but he’s so careful to never let you know how much, lest he start spilling all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’s another one that is usually okay with how things are and wouldn’t change them. But sometimes those feelings crush him a way that is hard to handle. 

What would make him confess: Alcohol removes him from both of the above mentioned teams. If he goes out drinking with the members and overdoes it a little, when you come and pick him up, he’s not the usual reserved Minghao. He’s chatty, talking your ear off the whole way home about tonight’s escapades - one member falling out of their seat, or one member making a fool of themself on the dance floor, or one member getting brutally shut down by someone they asked out. Without thinking he says that last story is the only reason he won’t say anything to you about his feelings. The next morning, you ask him if he has anything to confess while sober and he finally comes clean. 

Seungkwan

He has three modes really. The first one is doing little things for you like showing up with coffee, or getting up to flip your laundry while he’s over and you’re busy, or showing up to your work with lunch on a free afternoon when he knows you’re too busy to get anything yourself. The second is nagging, but coincidentally about the little things he’s doing for you - ‘you should really back off of the coffee’, or ‘you need to be eating a balanced meal’. The third is firm denial for any thanks you might give for his care and consideration in the first two modes. He doesn’t want to hear it if only because it reminds him of how he’d like to do this forever.

What would make him confess: Nothing specific, he’s just been waiting for the right time for a very long time, but it will finally present itself during a quiet night in. His confession will be serious and rather eloquent and it will finally click why he acts the way he does sometimes. 

Vernon

So fucking casual about it. Yeah, he likes you. Yeah, you’re one of his best friends. So? You think he’s going to do anything about it? Of course not. Another one that is totally okay with how things are now and wouldn’t dream of changing it. You’d still be one of his best friends even if you were dating. It drives his members that know about his little crush crazy, especially if they can see that the feelings are mutual. 

What would make him confess: It’ll be his members. They’ll make a comment in front of you that is unmistakeable in its meaning and later you just have to ask. To his credit, he’s incredibly casual about saying it to your face too, mostly because he means it when he promises it’s okay if you don’t return his feelings and nothing has to change. He wouldn’t be so causal if you said you returned his feelings though. He might even thank his members later for being the push he needed to finally have the conversation.

Chan

This is another one that will test the waters once he gets over the initial shock. And by test the waters, I mean he will never stop flirting with you. It feels like it came out of left field, because it did. His members might even warn him that he’s coming on a bit strong, but he won’t stop unless it seems like you’re uncomfortable. If you even remotely match his energy, he’d be overjoyed. 

What would make him confess: He can flirt with you no problem, but he can’t find the right words to say to you, so he won’t. You’ll have to be the one to ask him why he’s suddenly changed. To some extent, he’ll dance around the topic, but you’ll get the point. If you make a move or hint that you want him to make a move, he probably will. He’s just waiting for you to give him a sign.

[adverbally]

Promise Me Just One More Night

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘Please, stay?’” | wc: 1,248 | rated: M | cw: references to sexual content | tags: established relationship, moving away, last night together, hopeful ending | title from “If You Leave” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark

———

It feels a little pathetic, how quickly Steve gives in and begs. They’re both lying in Steve’s bed, still breathing heavily, damp with sweat and come (and maybe some tears), and he can’t stop thinking that this might be the last time he gets to touch Eddie like this. He whispers, “Please, stay?” without lifting his head from Eddie’s chest, too cowardly to look him in the eye.

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, like he’s about to explain again. Like Steve is just some little kid who doesn’t understand that sometimes people have to go away.

Steve knows damn well that nobody is going to stick around for him. He accepted that a long time ago. But Eddie had wormed his way into his heart over the summer and it made him start to think that maybe, just this once, someone would want to stay.

“Sorry, it’s stupid, forget I said anything,” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s skin. He keeps his gaze fixed on the tattoo just in front of his face, memorizing it like he’s tried to memorize every inch of Eddie in the past week.

Eddie slides a hand into Steve’s hair, carding through the strands with a tenderness they hardly had any time to explore. It sounds like an apology when he says, “You know why I have to go.”

He does, but that doesn’t stop the tears from burning in his eyes. “Yeah, but California?” His voice cracks a little. “That’s, like, as far as you can get without leaving the country.”

“Wayne’s got some friends out there who have a job for him. For both of us.”

“There are closer jobs. Like, in Ohio,” Steve grumbles. He’s probably proving Eddie right, acting like a child.

Eddie puts on a post British accent. “Alas, Lord Harrington, I need to take the sea air for my health. You know I have such a delicate constitution.”

Steve isn’t completely sure why that sets him off. Maybe it’s the reminder of how close he came to losing Eddie, how Eddie’s still recovering from all the damage the demobats did to him. But it’s probably because that stupid voice is the perfect example of how goofy and dramatic Eddie can be, and that just makes Steve miss him even more.

He’s not even gone yet and Steve already misses him so much he can’t stand it.

Eddie has to feel the tears dripping onto his chest, the shake of Steve’s shoulders where his arm drapes around his back. Steve’s not even being particularly quiet, so he can definitely hear him. But Eddie just holds Steve close and rubs a hand up and down his back while he cries.

“I’m gonna call you, like, every day. You’re gonna get sick of me. Like, the sound of my voice will make you wanna puke,” Eddie croons. The soft lilt of his voice is such a contrast to the words he’s saying that Steve coughs out a laugh despite himself.

“I don’t think you can afford the long distance charges,” he croaks. “Unless this new job is really good.”

“Okay, so you can call me instead,” Eddie says easily.

Steve sniffles. “Maybe I will. Then you’ll get sick of me.”

Eddie squeezes him more tightly and cranes his neck to kiss the top of Steve’s head. “Never gonna happen.”

“Okay. Just make sure you have your own phone in your bedroom so Wayne doesn’t catch you jacking off.”

He laughs so loud it almost hurts Steve’s ears. “You’re really something, Steve,” he says fondly. Steve can hear his smile.

“I love you, too.” The words slip out before Steve’s brain can catch up with his heart, but he doesn’t regret saying them until Eddie freezes beneath him. “You don’t have to say it back or anything,” he rushes to clarify, “but I wanted to tell you while we’re in the same room instead of, like, opposite sides of the country.”

Eddie wiggles until Steve rolls onto the bed next to him. They’re face to face now, so Steve can see the shine in Eddie’s eyes, even in the dark of his bedroom. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Steve doesn’t hesitate.

His expression goes from tense to almost manic, a huge grin spreading across his face. “I love you, too.”

Eddie is watching him so intently that Steve starts to feel self-conscious. He’s sure his eyes are all red and his hair is messed up from Eddie’s hands and he’s probably making a weird face that’s some previously-unknown combination of joy and heartbreak. And Eddie’s looking at him like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like he’s proud to love him and he doesn’t want to leave but he has to and–

Steve is crying again. It’s worse when Eddie can see his face turning splotchy, when Steve can see how Eddie’s eyes go soft and frowny. He tries to solve both of those problems by covering his face with one of his hands, but Eddie catches his wrist and holds it against his chest. Shit, now Steve’s lip is wobbling. He closes his eyes against tears and embarrassment alike.

“Hey. You don't have to look at me but I hope you’ll listen.” Eddie pauses until Steve nods, eyes still squeezed shut. “I love you whether I’m here or in California. I’ll still think about you every day. I’ll wonder what you’re having for lunch and what you’re wearing and what movie you’re gonna pick for movie night with the kids. Yeah, it’s gonna suck that I can’t see you, or touch you, but I don’t just want you for your hot bod. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice is small and watery.

“The kids will keep you busy when school starts and the time will fly by. Maybe you can come visit at Christmas?”

Steve has to open his eyes when Eddie sounds that shy and uncertain. “I’ll visit as much as you want. What’s the next holiday, Arbor Day?”

“I think you mean Labor Day.” Eddie has perfected the art of laughing at Steve with a completely straight face.

“Shut up. Labor Day, National Lobster Day, it doesn’t matter. Any excuse to come see you.” He takes Eddie’s face in his hands and kisses him tenderly.

Eddie’s mouth is wet and red when he pulls away to look at Steve’s alarm clock. He groans. “Wayne wants to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Do you think he’d mind if you spend the night here? I know you’d have to wake up earlier, but–”

“He won’t care.” Eddie nuzzles his nose against Steve’s face. He doesn’t say what they’re both thinking, that this is their last night together for the foreseeable future and they’re gonna make the most of it.

Steve sighs. “Then stay. Please.”

They’re silent while they go about their nightly routines, trading spots in front of the bathroom sink while they brush their teeth and Steve washes his face. They settle back into bed on the sides they naturally claimed weeks ago and pull each other close. The alarm is set for an obscenely early hour and it’s not nearly enough time, but Steve tries not to think about it for now. He just lets Eddie hold him, tells him goodnight and I love you and soaks it in when Eddie says it back.

Maybe once he can be sure all of this Upside Down shit is over, he’ll need a change of scenery. California sounds nice.

[luvhughes43]

is it too much to ask | quinn hughes x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: missing q when he's on the road! based off the song, "is it too much to ask" by faye webster.

word count: 1.2k

I’ve been waiting for so long

Waiting for you

Maybe you’ll give up and come home

I just want you

you felt a little childish counting down the days till your boyfriend would be back from his roadie. but really, who could blame you? It seemed that recently, with the canucks winning streak and Quinn's captaincy, you’ve seen less and less of your loving boyfriend. 

“Quinn!” you smiled at your grinning boyfriend once the facetime call connected. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting ready to get down to the rink” he replied, throwing his tie over one of his shoulders and using his other hand to pull it around his neck.

Quinn adjusted his tie, and you watch on in silence as he gets himself dressed. his belt comes next, and you stare as he stepped back and adjusted the long piece of leather to his body.

“you’re being quiet,” Quinn mumbled, still too caught up with what he was doing to glance back at his phone. 

you hummed softly. “just admiring you”

Quinn laughed, that carefree ringing sound that reminds you of those endless summer days on the lake. “you’re cute”

when Quinn finally looked up at you, you felt as if you’ve been caught doing something inappropriate. heat nips at your cheeks, and you look away to the stove to distract yourself from his gaze. 

“you look really pretty today,” Quinn continued, missing the redness of your cheeks.

you looked back towards your phone and you can’t help but smile at your boyfriend. “you look really hot! I can't wait to see the HD photos,” you joked. after the walk in photos were posted to the canucks twitter, you would send them to Quinn and comment on how attractive he looked. Quinn liked that a lot. 

Quinn chuckled before leaning forward and clicking on his phone to check the time. he deflated upon seeing the little numbers on his screen, letting you know that your short call would have to end soon. 

“i’ve gotta get down to the bus,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes scanned his messy hotel room.

“okay, well good luck! I’ll see you later?” 

Quinn hummed as he stood up from his hotel chair. he held the phone in a low angle and blew a kiss to you through the screen. “Yup, i'll text or call after the game” Quinn said, moving around his room and throwing various things around in an attempt to find something. 

“Your airpods are right there,” you hear Elias mumble in the background. 

Quinn moves again, and without a second thought turns to you before uttering a quick, “love you!” 

“I love you too!” you respond, and then the call abruptly fades into black. 

after the call ended, you trudge over to your and Quinns couch and switch the tv on so you were prepared for when his game started. 

you sit around and wait for the game to start, wishing for nothing more than to spend some time with your boyfriend. you knew captaincy was going to include a lot more responsibilities, but the distance combined with the extra hours at the rink… you just wanted your boyfriend back at home. whenever those thoughts of wanting Quinn to quit and come home to you flooded your mind, guilt would wash over you. hockey was his dream, and in a dream world you would be able to spend a little bit more time together.

All these letters that you wrote

They remind me

You’re not far when you leave home

That’s the best part

as usual, after the game Quinn sent you messages and little voice notes telling you all sorts of things. 

Quinn (voicenote) okay, so basically I was handling the puck, I don't know if you watched this part? But like anyway i’m lining up the shot-

a lot of the time it was Quinns narrations of the game he just played. you would lay in bed and listen to his warm voice explain all the intricacies of his and his teammates plays despite having witnessed it all go down on your screen.

when the voice notes end and you find yourself staring at your dark ceiling, you’d move onto reading the messages he’d send you throughout the day. 

Quinn: The sunset reminds me of you

Quinn sent one image

Quinn: I love you! Sleep well❤️

Quinn: i’ll call you in the morning

Then you’d scroll through old text messages. Brief declarations of love, lots of missing yous, and tens of pictures taken of mundane things that litter both of your everyday lives. 

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

“you're back!” you squeal the next morning, lifting yourself up off the couch and into Quinn's awaiting arms. you snuggle in close, choosing to rest your head in the crook of his neck. you can feel Quinn's wide grin against the side of your neck and you giggle when you feel his lips tickling open mouth kisses all along your skin. 

“we got in earlier than expected,” Quinn replied, lips still hovered over your skin. 

you hummed, “well send my compliments to the pilots”

Quinn kissed your shoulder again, before pulling you into a tight hug. “I missed you,” he sighed. 

“I missed you more,” you replied easily, thinking back to all your late nights spent watching the latest of Quinns interviews. in all honestly, you were practically a twitter stan when it came to your boyfriend. 

“Bath?” 

You nod, “i’ll start running the water” 

five minutes later you sit on the edge of the tub, hand dipped into the scorching water as you listen to the sweet sounds of Quinn trudging and stomping through the apartment. he had never quite learnt how to walk quietly, but you couldn’t say you minded how loud his presence was. 

It’s the road that takes you away

That's the worst part

‘Cause once it takes you, makes you stay

There's no way out

you knew that this was just one of many days off, and that in two week’s time he would be gone again. you’d lay alone in bed, replaying voice memos and rereading texts as you usually do. 

“what are you thinking so hard about?” Quinns soft voice makes you smile. you shift from your place in bed, looping one of your legs over Quinns and pulling yourself closer to him. 

“just you,” 

Quinn nodded. “atta girl” he teases, lacing his fingers through yours. 

you detach your hand from Quinns and rest your palm against his cheek. you brush at his hair, and you let your hand wander down his face as you start tracing circles onto his jawline. 

“i love you,” quinn sighed. his eyes are closed now, fully enjoying your light massages and all of your attention. 

“i love you,” you whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you?

Is it too much to ask you?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

that night, laying in bed wrapped up with Quinn made you realize once again that it was all worth it. even though you desperately wanted to spend all your time with your person, reunions like this were always worth it. 

for the next few weeks you’d bask in the light of his company, and then you’d repeat the process a hundred times over. because in the end, he was worth it every time.

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs. 

She deserved so much more. You deserved more. 

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them. 

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all. 

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did. 

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together. 

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand. 

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter. 

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible. 

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours. 

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts. 

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?” 

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.” 

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again. 

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.” 

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it. 

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.” 

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run. 

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky. 

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night. 

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored. 

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court. 

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out. 

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough. 

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words. 

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here. 

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone. 

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.” 

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.” 

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.” 

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.” 

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcoffeescotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn @minnieoo @maddybraps @mariahoedt @witchymomfrien

[luna-writes-stuff]

The type my favourite Arcane characters would fall for:

With Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, Caitlin, Ekko, Jinx, Silco, and Vander

———————————————————————

Viktor:

Viktor is very much a person who prefers solitude over social interactions. He focuses on his job more than anything, and can not quite find the time nor energy to do anything after that. Though he loves to find solace in lonesome rooms, he needs a little sunlight occasionally; metaphorically and literally. Someone who drops in once every two hours to get him a drink, a note or simply sit next to him to distract him from his project momentarily. You could sit on an empty chair at his side, observing his work from a safe distance, careful to not shove your nose in there. Tiny questions would escape you, such as “what is that?” Or “why are you using that?”, and he would be delighted to answer them. Sometimes, he’d pull off his goggles to look at you shortly, a tiny smile gracing his face, before he returns to his work. You’d get along with Jayce quite easily - maybe too easy, but it’s all in good manners. Viktor tries to make time for you and take short breaks, but more often than not, he gets so caught up, he cannot afford the distraction. Jayce is more than happy to entertain you for the time being; he rather enjoys your presence as well.

——

Jayce:

Jayce oozes charisma. Now usually, fire and fire don’t go well, but match his energy, and this is man is smitten. Absolutely at loss for words. Desperately in love, if you will. You tease him; the words disappear on his tongue. Now come the heart-eyes. You’d walk down the halls, and you could simply feel his eyes on you. He’d halt any conversation he held and stare at you in silence. Respectfully. Would you work in the same lab as him, this man cannot focus to save his life. Your jokes, your smile, your witty remarks….He’s gone. The worst is when you radiate serotonin. A job gone right, a good song, a funny joke? Anything that makes you smile, makes his heart skip a step. You know that hollow feeling in your stomach, but the good one? That’s him. He’s quick to pick up on little things you do once you get excited: Clap your hands, squeal, jump up and down, squeezing your hands in fists? He sees it. And there is that pit again.

——

Mel:

Listen, this woman is so busy and booked, she tends to miss out on the little things. She needs someone who will take little times a day where they will take a short walk, or do some painting together. Anything to get her mind off of work or business for a short second. A spontaneous decision often takes her aback, as she likes to plan things out, but once she trusts you, it’s all in, baby. During council meetings, you’ll sit on the side, silently calming her down when things get hectic or chaotic. You help her plan things out, but leave room for the fun things. She treasures this so much, she cannot even begin to explain it to you. Small touches on your arm or hand constantly to remind her you’re still there. Ironically enough, it keeps her from overworking. You’re simply so soothing to her.

——

Caitlin:

Bamf. Do I need to elaborate? Caitlin is the type of person to see the good in everyone, no matter how tiny it will be. ‘How bad can they be?’ is a regular question from her. She can be attracted to anyone, really. But if there was one type to capture her heart, it’s the bamf. The person who says things as they are, does as they please, witty remarks, teasing winks etc. The impression you leave on her is large, and she is in awe immediately. Even if she claims to not be amused. She is. Her heart is almost beating out of her chest. Someone get her some help, please. If you start flirting with her, this poor woman does not know what to do. Her cheeks turn red, her ears heat up, she freezes on the spot. But she loves it so much, though she would never admit it. And it’s great to get her flustered.

——

Vi:

Sure, Vi would love a badass and independent partner. But when that partner has a soft spot for children? Always sees the good in everything? Smiles when someone says hi? Don’t get me started. The way your voice changes when you speak to someone in a friendly manner: gone. Bye-bye, Vi. She is a bit rough around the edges, and can come of as cold at times. You contradict that in the best ways possible. Your kind waves to everyone you pass, the ‘how are you?’ when trying to pay for something, your loving hugs…All the things she’d 100% fall for. No question about it. She insists on holding your hand at all times. She says it is because you like it, but let’s be honest. She is not planning on letting you go and likes to let everyone know, you are indeed taken. 10/10 the type to make-out in public when someone takes your friendliness a bit too extreme. Her hand tugging on your waist, the glare shot towards the one flirting with you? Oof.

——

Jinx:

Jinx has a teasing tone, as everyone might know. Though she could use someone to work against that, she would not necessarily find herself attracted to it. If you decide to throw a confetti bomb her way though? You just got yourself a new girlfriend. She is the type to cause mayhem anywhere and everywhere. If she finds someone to do that with, her heart is taken. There are times her emotions tend to get the best of her. You’ll have to calm her down gradually before she does anything stupid. Offer a listening ear, a supportive arm, and she’ll eventually calm down. She loves to do stupid things with you, but she needs breaks. Sit with her and help her tinker with new ideas. Your voice can truly be enough to simply soothe her.

——

Ekko:

Ekko has a soft spot for nerds, no one can convince me otherwise. And I’m not talking technology nerd. I’m talking info-dumping nerd. Someone who knows a little bit about everything. With anything he encounters, you are able to tell a fun story behind that. “Is that a raven?” “Actually, it’s a crow. Did you know crows actually remember people and voices and can even hold a grudge against you? Even worse, crows gossip. What? They do.” Man has fallen head over heels. Your little ranting and rambling makes him feel all giddy inside. He actually used to hate it, but as he grew to realize it was love, he began to accept it. Now, the feeling is welcomed. He can listen to you talk for ages, as cheesy as it might sound. And he remembers everything you tell him. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t, so you could tell him again. You know you ramble, and you have often been told to shut up. So, when you notice you’re ranting again, you always stop suddenly, offering a meek ‘sorry’. He will not hesitate to shake his head wildly, grabbing your hands in reassurance, claiming he wants to hear more. And it’s not to make you feel better, he genuinely enjoys your little talks. It’s one of the things that makes you so special to him. He treasures every single word spoken to him.

——

Silco:

Now, Silco is not an easy one to fall. Not at all. Even with you, it might not have been love at first sight. You had to grow on him. But your mind, and your strategies? They were phenomenal since day one. And though he simply shrugged at it at first, he found himself being attracted to you for that exact reason. You had a solution to every problem, and you had a way of thinking that he simply adored. And from there, he started noticing other things about you. Had your eyes always held that sparkle in them? Were your hands always that delicate? Had your voice always sounded that soothing? It wasn’t until you once laid a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of dreamland, that he realized that he had indeed fallen. Because that touch seemed to linger on his shoulder even as you walked back to your seat at the table. And your eyes silently asking him if he was okay, suddenly looked so different. And then it all clicks. From that day on, his behavior towards you completely changes. Now he wants you in the room with him. Now he wants your opinion on everything. Now you have to follow him wherever he goes. He needs you closer to him now than ever before.

——

Vander:

Listen. Dad friend meets mom friend. It’s meant to be, what else can I say? Your warm-hearted personality, the way you kneel down when talking to children, your reasonable words always interrupting fights. That’s just a short list of things he adores about you. Being the voice of reason, but with that compassionate tone is something he greatly admires. Perhaps more than people usually would. But of course, carrying the day on your shoulder and trying to remain kind to others can take quite a toll on a person. At night, when you’re sure others will no longer come look for you, you tire yourself with thoughts of the day. He often comes to visit you around this time so you will not be alone. You share your worries with each other, but also try to encourage each other to keep it up. Those talks are something so precious and intimate to him. And he keeps on doing these even after being your partner through the years.

[girlrotterr]

So glad you’re back, missed your amazing writing a lot!

Would it be possible to make something about maybe the reader getting bit and infected , but Ellie instead of killing them just kind of ..keeps them?

Like she refuses to lose anyone else , too many people she knew lost themselves to the infected and she just can’t shoot them, and despite their pleas for Ellie to just put them down, yknow before they’re fully infected, Ellie just can’t do it

It’s selfish and she knows that but she just can’t lose R . And maybe when R is like, fully infected, they’re way less aggressive with Ellie- like even with the fungus controlling their brain, those foggy eyes still recognize Ellie just a little bit, like they’re still there

Or maybe that’s what Ellie believes and she’s just majorly delusional! It’s not like she could get infected if we bit them anyway 😁

(P.S I’m glad you’re back but don’t feel any pressure to do anything you don’t want to! It’s always nice to keep balance and take breaks and all that. really love what you do!)

This literally made my day! tsym for this request, it was gut-wrenching to write...I definitely need to write more angst 😭

Fragments.

⋆ ★　it’s you 　·

The air in the room felt stifling, thick with tension and the lingering smell of antiseptic. You knelt beside Ellie, carefully cleaning the dirt and dried blood from her arm, your hands steady despite the unease crawling up your spine. Her skin was cold to the touch, and you could feel the thinness of her frame—she hadn’t been eating. Her face was hollow, eyes glassy as she stared blankly at the peeling wallpaper, as if the world beyond had ceased to matter.

"You need food," you said quietly, dabbing at the worst of her wounds. "If you don’t, you’ll collapse before you even make it out of this place."

Your voice barely stirred the silence. Ellie’s jaw tightened, but she gave no other sign that she heard you. You reached for the bandages to wrap the gash along her arm, but just as your fingers brushed the edge of her sleeve, she pulled back, standing abruptly. The bed creaked as she rose, putting space between you, her body tense like a spring ready to snap.

She moved to the window, staring out into the rain-soaked streets, her reflection barely visible in the glass. One hand rose to her forehead, pressing hard as if she could push away the weight bearing down on her. "I’m leaving tonight," she murmured, her voice flat but filled with quiet finality.

You rose slowly, watching her closely. "Ellie…" you began, but the words felt heavy, caught in your throat. "You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you."

The sound of your words seemed to break something loose in her, and she let out a dry, humorless laugh. It was bitter, the kind of laugh that had nothing to do with amusement. "No, you’re not," she said, turning halfway to glance at you. Her eyes flickered with something cold and distant. "This isn’t about you. You stay here. I don’t need you following me."

Her words cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but her posture warned you to keep your distance. She ran a hand through her hair, the strands falling messily around her face, the exhaustion clear in the way her body sagged, but she kept standing. Kept moving. Kept fighting.

Finally, she turned fully, her eyes locking onto yours with a steely resolve. The warmth that had once been there—the fire, the connection—was gone. Replaced by something hollow, something hardened by too much loss. The person you were staring at was Ellie, but at the same time, it wasn’t her. Her expression was almost unreadable, the kind of cold determination that refused to be questioned.

"You don’t know what this is," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything unsaid. "You don’t want any part of it." Her gaze was icy, her eyes daring you to argue. Daring you to stop her.

And in that moment, you realized the Ellie standing before you was not the same girl who once trusted you with her secrets, her fears. She had become something else, someone chasing after something that only she could see.

The rain outside drummed softly against the cracked windowpane, its steady rhythm the only sound filling the suffocating quiet between you and Ellie. She had turned away from you again, facing the door now, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets like they were holding her together. But you weren’t going to let her leave. Not like this.

"I am coming with you, Ellie," you said, your voice firmer this time. "You can’t do this alone."

She stiffened, her shoulders hunching slightly, like the weight of your words was too much to bear. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t say anything, the tension between you thickening with every passing second. The space between you felt like a chasm, widening with each breath.

"I told you to stay," she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice low but trembling at the edges. Her hands gripped the fabric of her jacket inside the pockets, knuckles white, though you couldn’t see it. "This isn’t your fight."

"You think I care about that?" you shot back, stepping closer, trying to catch her eye. "You think I’m going to stand by and let you run off into God knows what? You’ll get yourself killed out there."

She let out another bitter laugh, but this time it was shakier, less certain, like she was using it as a shield. "I’ll be fine," she said, though the words felt hollow, more for her benefit than yours. She shifted slightly, her back still to you, and you could see her hands twitch inside her pockets. Her whole body was rigid, but there was a tremor running through her, something she was desperately trying to hide.

You stepped forward, your voice softening but still determined. "No, you won’t. You haven’t slept, haven’t eaten. You’re barely holding on, Ellie." The words hung in the air between you, and you could feel the weight of them sinking in.

"Stop it," she snapped suddenly, her voice cracking at the edges as she turned halfway, but still not fully meeting your eyes. Her hands were shaking now, slight but noticeable, and she shoved them deeper into her pockets, as if that would make the tremors disappear. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you pressed, not backing down. "Tell me why you won’t let me come with you. Why you keep pushing me away."

Her gaze darted to the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was breathing faster now, the tremble in her voice more pronounced, and her whole frame seemed to sag under the weight of your words. But still, she didn’t look at you. She couldn’t.

"Because…" she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but then she swallowed hard, shaking her head, as if trying to force the words back down. She ran a hand through her hair again, her fingers trembling as they got caught in the messy strands, her breath shallow.

She took a step toward the door, her movements almost frantic, her back still turned. "You don’t get it," she muttered, her voice fragile. "If you come with me…"

Her voice broke completely, and she clenched her fists so hard inside her pockets that you could see her arms tense up. She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t even face you, her entire body vibrating with barely contained emotion. You could feel the distance between you growing, and yet, you knew she was right there—right on the edge of something she didn’t want to admit.

"Ellie," you said gently, stepping closer until you were just behind her. "You don’t have to do this alone. You can’t keep shutting people out."

She took a deep breath, as if trying to steel herself, but it wasn’t working. The more she tried to keep her voice steady, the more it trembled, betraying her. "I have to," she whispered, her voice so small, so fragile that it barely sounded like her. "I can’t… I can’t lose anyone else."

The confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, one tug away from snapping, and your heart clenched. She still wouldn’t look at you, her eyes glued to the door, as if staring at it would keep her from unraveling. Her hands slipped from her pockets, fingers twitching at her sides now, shaking uncontrollably.

"Ellie…" you whispered, taking a step closer, but she flinched, turning away sharply, like she couldn’t bear your presence. Her breathing had quickened, shallow and uneven, and her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. 

"I can’t… I can’t lose you too," she choked out finally, the words spilling out like they had been forced from somewhere deep inside her, where she had buried them. She bit her lip, hard, as if punishing herself for saying it out loud, as if the very act of speaking it made it real.

Her hands balled into fists again, trembling as she pressed them against her sides. She was shaking now, her entire body vibrating with the fear she couldn’t voice, the grief she refused to let surface. But it was there, seeping out through every crack, every tremor. And she couldn’t hide it anymore.

She wouldn’t look at you—couldn’t—but you could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and the way she blinked rapidly to hold them back. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, raw and broken. "If you come with me… something will happen. I know it. I’ll lose you too." 

There it was. The truth she had been too terrified to say, the fear she had been carrying with her all this time. The fear that had kept her running, kept her distant, kept her cold. She wasn’t just afraid of losing more people—she was afraid of losing you.

You stood there, your heart aching for her, wanting to reach out and tell her it was okay—that you understood. But you knew that right now, she couldn’t handle that. Not when she was so close to breaking.

She turned away again, her shoulders hunched, her body trembling as she fought to keep herself together. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just… stay. Don’t make me say goodbye to you too."

The silence that followed was suffocating, and you knew in that moment, she wasn’t just asking you to stay behind. She was asking you to save her from the heartbreak she feared was inevitable. To stop her from speaking her worst fears into existence. 

───────

The morning was overcast, the kind of gray that settled over everything, turning the world dull and lifeless. You and Ellie walked side by side through the empty town, your footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet streets. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the dampness still lingered in the air, making everything feel heavy and cold. Your breath came out in short, visible puffs, mingling with the mist that clung to the abandoned buildings around you.

Ellie was quiet, her gaze fixed ahead as she led the way, rifle slung over her shoulder. The tension from the night before still lingered between you, a quiet undercurrent that neither of you had fully addressed. But for now, there were more immediate concerns—supplies, food, anything that could keep you both going for another few days. The last town had been picked clean, and this one didn’t look much better.

You passed by boarded-up storefronts, windows cracked and shattered, their interiors dark and hollow. The signs above them had long faded, the paint chipped and peeling, a reminder of a life long abandoned. Ellie didn’t say a word, but her movements were sharp, purposeful, her eyes scanning every alley, every shadow. She was on edge, though she tried to hide it. 

As you walked, the distant sound of creaking metal caught your attention. A rusted-out sign swung lazily in the wind above an old convenience store. The windows were grimy, impossible to see through, but it didn’t look like it had been touched in a while. 

"Let’s check in there," you suggested, nodding toward the building. Ellie gave a curt nod in response, her lips pressed tightly together, and without a word, she moved toward the door, her boots scuffing against the wet pavement. She reached for the handle, testing it cautiously, and the door creaked open with a low groan, the hinges rusted from neglect.

Inside, the air was musty, thick with the scent of mold and decay. Shelves lined the walls, though most were bare, their contents either stolen or long expired. Sunlight barely filtered through the grime-covered windows, casting everything in a muted, grayish light. Ellie stepped in first, her hand already hovering near her pistol, her eyes sharp and scanning the dim interior. You followed close behind, your heartbeat quickening slightly in the eerie stillness of the place.

You moved toward the back of the store, eyes scanning the shelves for anything useful—canned food, medical supplies, anything that might help. Ellie moved along the opposite side, her footsteps deliberate, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

The quiet between you both was almost oppressive, but you could sense her tension with every move she made, like she was barely holding herself together. Her fingers twitched as they traced the edge of a dusty shelf, her breathing shallow but controlled. The rawness from last night was still fresh, unspoken, hanging heavy in the air, but neither of you knew how to address it.

Your gaze drifted toward her as she rifled through a half-empty bin, her face partially hidden under the hood of her jacket. There was something about the way she moved now—faster, more determined, as if keeping herself busy could drown out whatever thoughts were haunting her. But the slight tremor in her hands as she reached for a tin can gave her away.

"Ellie," you said softly, breaking the silence between you.

She froze for just a second, her shoulders tensing before she forced herself to keep moving, pretending she hadn’t heard you. "We need to focus," she muttered, her voice tight, strained.

"I am focusing," you replied, stepping closer. "But we’re not going to find much if you burn yourself out."

Her jaw clenched, and she finally looked at you, her green eyes flickering with something sharp—anger, maybe frustration, but beneath it, fear. She didn’t respond immediately, instead stuffing the can she’d found into her backpack with more force than necessary.

"We don’t have time to slow down," she said, her voice low, clipped. "Not now. We have to keep moving, keep finding what we can. It’s how we survive." 

Her words had a harsh edge, but you could see the exhaustion pulling at her features, the way her body sagged slightly as she spoke. She hadn’t fully recovered from everything—physically or mentally—but she was pushing herself harder than ever, trying to keep the walls up, to keep that distance between you.

You sighed, glancing around the room. "Look, I get it. I do. But if you don’t rest, if you don’t take a second to breathe… you’re not going to make it to the next town. Neither of us will."

Ellie shot you a look, a mix of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place, before shaking her head. She opened her mouth to respond, but just as she did, the soft sound of glass crunching underfoot echoed from the far side of the store. Both of you froze instantly, the air thickening as your heart rate spiked. 

Ellie’s hand was on her pistol in a flash, her body low and tense, her eyes darting toward the source of the sound. You reached for your own weapon, your grip tight, the adrenaline flooding your veins as you both moved silently toward the back corner of the store. There, behind a display shelf, something shifted—small, fast. A figure darted past the aisle in the dim light.

Ellie glanced at you, her eyes wide but focused, her hand steady on her pistol despite the fear lurking beneath the surface. The moment stretched on, filled with quiet breaths and pounding heartbeats as you both prepared for whatever came next. 

But this was no longer just about finding supplies. Now, survival had become the immediate goal.

The sound came before you saw them—a low, guttural growl echoing through the silence of the store, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of heavy footsteps. At first, it was just one. But then, more followed. A chorus of inhuman snarls and groans rising up from the aisles.

Ellie’s eyes darted toward the door as the noise grew louder, her posture stiffening with the realization. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, her grip tightening around the handle of her pistol. She didn’t need to say anything—you knew exactly what was coming.

Before you could react, a figure lurched into view, stumbling into the store from the far side, its limbs jerking with that unnatural, erratic movement you knew too well. The infected creature let out a high-pitched screech, its head snapping in your direction, milky eyes locked onto you. It wasn’t alone. Behind it, more shadows shifted, crowding the entrance as the herd began to pour in, a flood of bodies pushing against the broken doorframe.

"Go!" Ellie barked, her voice sharp and urgent. Without hesitation, she grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the back of the store, her eyes wide with fear but her movements quick, determined. The infected were swarming now, their snarls filling the air as they tore through the aisles, knocking over shelves and scattering debris in their path.

You ran, the sound of the horde behind you growing louder with every second, the ground trembling under their relentless charge. Ellie was in front, her boots pounding against the worn tile, her breathing fast but controlled as she weaved between shelves, looking for an exit. You could hear her muttering curses under her breath, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

But then you heard it—the stumble, the faint hitch in her step. You glanced at Ellie, and immediately you saw the change. She was slowing down, her movements less fluid, more labored. Her breathing had turned ragged, and her face was pale, her brow glistening with sweat.

"Ellie!" you shouted, grabbing her arm as she stumbled again, barely keeping herself upright. Her legs were shaking now, her footsteps faltering as though her body was finally giving out.

"I’m fine," she snapped, pulling away from you, though the strain in her voice was impossible to miss. She tried to push forward, but her legs buckled again, this time more severely. Her frustration was palpable, a flare of anger that lit up her expression as she fought to keep moving.

Behind you, the infected were closing in, their growls growing louder, more aggressive. You could hear the scrape of their claws against the floor, the sickening sounds of their bodies slamming into shelves, knocking them aside in their frenzy to reach you.

Ellie tried to pick up the pace, but it was clear something was wrong. Her face twisted in pain and frustration as she pushed herself harder, but her body wasn’t cooperating. She was weakening—fast. Days without food, without proper rest, were finally catching up to her. And it showed.

"Damn it!" she hissed, her voice thick with anger—at herself, at the situation. Her fists clenched, her legs trembling with every step. She was trying, but her body was betraying her, and you could see the panic beginning to set in, masked beneath her frustration.

"Ellie, stop," you called out, your voice rising over the cacophony of snarls and shuffling feet behind you. "You’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t—"

"I’m fine!" she barked again, her voice strained as she forced herself forward. But it was clear she wasn’t. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps now, her legs nearly giving out beneath her as she stumbled again, catching herself on a shelf. She paused for a split second, clutching her side, her face contorted with frustration and pain.

You could see it in her—the fear, the anger. The way she was cursing herself for being weak, for slowing down. The look in her eyes was one of desperation, her teeth clenched as she fought to stay on her feet, her body visibly trembling from the effort.

But the infected were too close now. There wasn’t time.

"They’re almost on us!" you yelled, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her forward, practically dragging her as you both pushed toward the back of the store. You could hear the footsteps of the infected right behind you, their growls echoing in your ears, growing louder, more frantic.

Ellie’s legs were barely holding her up at this point, and she stumbled again, letting out a frustrated growl of her own. "I can’t…" she muttered, her voice cracking as she nearly collapsed, her knees buckling beneath her. "I can’t fucking—"

"Keep going!" you urged, your heart pounding as you tugged her forward, the infected right behind you. "You have to keep moving, Ellie!"

She gritted her teeth, her breath coming in harsh gasps. "I’m trying!" she snapped, but her voice broke, revealing the exhaustion and fear underneath. Her legs were giving up, her body shaking violently now with the effort to keep going. But there was no time to stop, no time to rest.

With a final, desperate push, you managed to drag her to the back of the store, where a door hung slightly ajar, leading into an alleyway. You kicked it open with your foot, the door slamming against the wall as you shoved Ellie through, both of you stumbling into the narrow passage outside.

The moment you were out, you slammed the door shut behind you, leaning heavily against it as you heard the infected slam into the other side, their snarls muffled but still terrifyingly close. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding in your ears, but you had made it. Barely.

Ellie collapsed against the brick wall of the alley, her legs finally giving out. She was breathing hard, her hands trembling as she gripped the wall for support, her eyes squeezed shut. Her frustration was palpable, mixed with the fear she refused to admit.

"I can’t…" she muttered, her voice weak, trembling. "I can’t… keep doing this."

You knelt beside her, your own breath ragged as you watched her struggle, her body shaking from the exhaustion, her face pale and drawn. She was angry—angry at herself for slowing down, for not being able to keep up. But beneath that anger, you saw the fear—the fear of losing, of failing, of being weak.

"It’s not your fault," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the chaos. "You’re exhausted. You need rest."

But Ellie just shook her head, her jaw clenched as she fought to catch her breath, her hands still trembling as she wiped sweat from her brow. "I can’t afford to be weak," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Not now. Not ever."

You stole a glance at her, noticing the way she picked at the dirt beneath her fingers, brow furrowed in concentration. She looked lost, wrestling with turmoil inside. The vulnerability in her posture struck you, and you reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against her cheek. The moment your skin made contact, her gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flicker of surprise dancing in her green eyes.

Your fingers grazed her face, gently caressing her skin, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like time stood still, the chaos outside fading into the background. But then her eyes fell to your hand, and your heart sank as you followed her gaze.

Your wrist was marked by a fresh bite, angry and raw, the skin around it bruised and mottled. You hadn’t even realized it—maybe it was the adrenaline that masked the pain. But now, as the truth washed over you, a cold dread seeped into your bones.

“No…” Ellie breathed, her voice breaking the stillness. Her eyes widened with panic, the color draining from her face as the realization hit her. The flicker of fear transformed into a tempest of emotions within her—anger, despair, disbelief.

In an instant, she was on her feet, her movements frantic as she began to throw things around the alley. Old crates, discarded bottles, and scraps of metal flew through the air, clattering against the brick walls. “No! No! No!” she shouted, her voice rising in a frantic pitch, echoing off the walls like a scream in the dark.

You remained seated, shock holding you in place as you watched her unravel. It was as if she was trying to physically push the reality away, to fight against the fate that loomed over you both. “This can’t be happening!” she yelled, her hands shaking violently as she grabbed a rusted pipe and hurled it against the wall, the sound of metal clanging against stone reverberating through the air.

“Ellie, stop!” you tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. The weight of your own fate held you down, anchoring you in place. You could only watch as she spiraled deeper into panic, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes darting everywhere as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

“I can’t lose you! Not like this!” she cried, the desperation in her voice slicing through the air like a knife. She kicked over an old barrel, its contents spilling out onto the ground, littering the alley with debris. Each movement she made was frantic, unhinged, her anger directed at everything around her, but it was clear where the true target lay—at the helplessness of the situation, at you.

Her voice cracked with emotion as she faced you, rage and anguish contorting her features. “You can’t just—get bitten! You know what that means!” Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as if they could ground her in this moment of chaos. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, mixing with the fire of her anger, creating a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to explode.

“Damn it!” she shouted, pacing the narrow confines of the alley, her energy raw and electric. “You were supposed to be careful! We were supposed to stick together! I can’t do this again!” With each word, she hurled another object, her fury radiating like heat waves. A glass bottle shattered against the wall, fragments scattering as they hit the ground like shards of her resolve.

You attempted to rise, to reach out to her, but the weight of your own fate held you down, anchoring you in place. The world outside the alley faded into insignificance as the reality of the bite settled in your mind, its implications crashing over you like a tidal wave. Ellie’s face crumpled, and you could see the moment the fight drained from her.

“I can’t do this again!” she shouted, her voice cracking, finally collapsing onto her knees in front of you. Tears shimmered in her eyes, glistening like tiny stars as they caught the dim light filtering through the alley. She was shaking now, her body trembling from the weight of the moment.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against her shoulder, but she flinched away from your touch, her eyes wide and wild, the anger and fear swirling in them. “You’re not… you can’t be bitten! Not again! Not after everything!” The words tumbled out of her, each one a plea, a denial of the truth that was crashing down around you.

“Ellie,” you finally managed to say, your voice low and strained, but she cut you off.

“No! Don’t say it!” She shot to her feet again, her fists clenched, the glass glinting dangerously in the dim light 

You wanted to reassure her, to tell her it would be okay, but the words caught in your throat, the reality weighing down your heart. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. 

“Ellie…” you managed to say, your voice strained and raw. “You have to put me down. Before it’s too late.” You could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she fought against the impending reality, her heart grappling with the instinct to protect and the stark truth of your situation.

 “You can’t let me turn,” you pleaded, your tone urgent as you reached out to touch her knee, seeking any connection that might ground her in this moment.

But she recoiled slightly, shaking her head vehemently. “I can’t. I won’t!” Her voice cracked with emotion, the glass shard trembling in her grasp as she wrestled with the weight of the decision before her. “You’re not going to die. Not like this! Not at my hands!”

“Ellie, please,” you urged, your own heart pounding in your chest as you saw the resolve in her face begin to crack. “You know it’s the only way. You have to be strong.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when they opened again, the hurt etched into her features made your heart ache. “No! I can’t lose you! I can’t!” The glass fell from her fingers, clattering against the pavement, shattering the silence that enveloped you. Her shoulders trembled as her breath hitched, and you could see the tears beginning to spill over, tracing paths down her cheeks.

“It’s selfish, I know,” she said, her voice a choked whisper, filled with anguish. “But I just can’t… I can’t let you go. I can’t do it again.” Her body shook as she spoke, the weight of her grief pulling her under. The memory of everyone she had lost flooded back, and the fear of losing you felt like a tidal wave crashing against her, threatening to drown her in despair.

You watched her struggle, your heart aching for the pain she carried. “Ellie,” you said softly, trying to reach her through the turmoil. 

“No!” she cried, and it was a raw, primal sound, one that echoed with the deep, crushing fear that had taken root within her. She dropped her head into her hands, fingers tangled in her hair as if trying to pull herself together. “I won’t let you go,” she repeated, her voice muffled, but resolute.

“Ellie, listen to me,” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice. “I don’t want to become one of them. I can’t do that to you. You have to make the hard choice. You’re stronger than this.”

───────

Time slipped away in a haze of disorientation and muffled sounds. The world outside your awareness had transformed into a distant murmur, punctuated by the gnashing of teeth and the haunting cries of the infected. As the days passed, the infection took hold, an insidious creeping through your body, weaving its way into your mind, pulling you deeper into a fog that blurred the line between your old self and the new, grotesque reality. 

Yet, even as the fungus spread, there were fleeting moments of clarity—glimmers of recognition amid the haze. It was as if the remnants of your consciousness flickered like a dying light, occasionally illuminating the shadowy corners of your mind. And somehow, through it all, Ellie remained a constant presence, a beacon that anchored you to the fragments of your former self.

The small, makeshift shelter you shared was dim, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the remnants of previous meals. Ellie moved around the space with a quiet intensity, her every action laced with a palpable mix of determination and despair. She had become the lifeline, foraging and hunting in the barren landscape outside, all while trying to preserve what remained of the person you used to be. 

Today, she returned with a small game—a rabbit, its body limp in her hands, the fur matted with dirt from the struggle. As she set to work preparing it, you watched from your corner of the room, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated, remnants of the old you trying to claw their way to the surface.

She moved with a practiced ease, though her eyes reflected the weight of her heart. The sun cast a soft light through the cracks in the shelter, illuminating her face, the tension in her jaw, and the shadows beneath her eyes. Ellie hummed a tune, a faint echo of the songs you used to sing together, but the melody was laced with sorrow. 

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice wavering as she chopped the rabbit into pieces. “Just hold on a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something good.” 

You stared at her, trying to focus, your mind a swirling mess of thoughts and emotions. You wanted to respond, to assure her that you were still there, still part of this fragile moment. Your fingers twitched, and for a heartbeat, you felt a flicker of the warmth and love that had once defined your connection.

Ellie set the small pot over the meager flame and watched it carefully, as if the rhythm of the boiling water might soothe the chaos within her. “I wish you could help me with this,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder at you, the ghost of a smile trying to break through the pain. “You always knew how to cook better than I did.”

You shifted your gaze toward her, the fog thickening around your thoughts, yet something within you stirred. You wanted to tell her that you remembered, that you could still see her, that you were still there. But the words lay heavy on your tongue, trapped in the murky depths of the infection’s grip.

As the scent of cooking meat filled the air, Ellie moved to the small stash of supplies, pulling out a bowl and some utensils. She served the food into two bowls, carefully portioning it out, her hands steady despite the tremor in her heart. The moment felt almost normal, a slice of life amid the horror that surrounded you. 

Yet, as she sat down across from you, her hands cradling the bowl, the weight of it all crashed down on her. She brought the food to her lips, but just as it reached her mouth, her resolve faltered. The sight of you—sitting there, half-formed and shifting between the shadows of your former self and the infected being you had become—made her heart ache. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless, splashing onto the bowl, mixing with the meal.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, dropping the bowl back into her lap. “I can’t eat. Not like this.” Her voice broke, cracking under the strain of the moment, each word laced with the weight of grief and hopelessness. 

Your foggy gaze remained fixed on her, struggling to understand the depth of her sorrow. Something in your chest tightened as you watched her, the recognition of her pain filtering through the haze. There was still a flicker of connection—some thread of recognition that made you feel like you were still there, still a part of her life. 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice shaking, trembling with the raw honesty of her emotions. “I thought we could be okay, that you could still… still come back to me.” Her tears fell freely, each drop a testament to the battle raging within her—love, loss, and the desperate longing for the past.

In that moment, something deep within you stirred, a yearning to reach out to her, to tell her that despite the infection, you could still feel her presence, still recognize her. You shifted slightly, the movement barely noticeable, but it was enough to capture her attention. 

“Ellie…” you rasped, the sound barely escaping your lips, but it felt like an eternity as you fought against the fog, wrestling with the remnants of your thoughts. It was a plea, a cry buried deep within, resonating with all the unspoken words that hung between you.

She looked up, her eyes wide, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to pause. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” she breathed, her voice laced with disbelief and hope. “You can hear me?”

There was a flicker of clarity, a connection that pulsed between you—a heartbeat against the chaos that surrounded. You focused on her, trying to push through the fog, to let her know that you were still here, still fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume you both.

But even as the realization flickered within her, the truth hung heavily in the air—the infection was taking hold, and there was only so much time left. The thought sent her spiraling back into despair, the tears falling more freely as she gripped the bowl tightly, her knuckles whitening.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking once more, a raw wound laid bare for you to witness. “I just can’t.”

And in that moment, as the warmth of her tears pooled on your skin, you understood the weight of her love and the crushing reality of your situation. You were still there, a flicker in the darkness, but it wasn’t enough to shield her from the pain that lay ahead. The bond between you remained, even as the world began to fade, and all you could do was hold on to that sliver of connection, even as everything else slipped away.

[katsu28]

hi my lovely kait!

i saw your requests were open and i actually was thinking about if ive ever requested smth from you before (i think maybe once but im not sure)

i was wondering if i could get ‘Kissing away their tears’ with charles but i wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do it with anyone else as well! i’ve been craving some hurt/comfort.

love you and have an amazing day <33

hali!!! love u love u thank u for being so sweet <3 here's some hurt and (hopefully) some comfort for u!

charles leclerc x reader, 1.4k. request something from here!

You can tell that Charles is dejected the moment he climbs out of the car. He doesn’t have that spring in his step he usually gets after an exhilarating race, and his feet drag on the asphalt as he trudges over to the weighing station with the rest of the grid, barring the podium goers. 

Carlos finished high up in the points, which is a win for Ferrari and you know Charles is happy for him, but you can’t imagine what it must feel like to constantly miss out on points and positions while his teammate consistently comes out in the top five every time. 

Formula One is a different breed of competition—your teammate might be your friend, but they’re also one of your biggest rivals. You fight to keep your seat, race after race, season after season, and this downhill spiral Charles has been in ever since his home win has been disheartening to say the least. 

You don’t know much about the strategy of it all, but you know Ferrari’s hasn’t been working out for him. He’s had a rough go of it lately, and your heart hurts for him. 

Charles looks up to where he knows you are, lifting his hand in a haphazard wave at you before being ushered away to the media pen. You’ll wait for him where you always meet him after races.

Somehow, he looks even more defeated than before as he trudges into his driver room after post race interviews conclude. He throws his paddock pass off to the side. You’re sitting up on the countertop, legs swinging mindlessly, only stilling when Charles shuts the door behind him. 

“Hey,” You say softly, gently. 

“Hi. Thank you for coming.” He tries his attempt at a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. You hold out your arms, and immediately, Charles steps forward, folding himself into your embrace. You know Charles well enough to know that he won't believe you if you compliment him right now, so you don’t. You sit with him in the heavy silence instead, waiting for him to make the first move. “I’m sorry I could not do better.” 

“You did the best you could with what you were given, Charles,” You say assuringly, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. He sighs long and hard, like you’re just telling him what he wants to hear. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Can we just go back to the hotel now?” He asks quietly, muffled because of how his face is buried into your neck. “I’m done for today. Anything else can wait until tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” You hum, carding a gentle hand through his hair one more time before releasing him. Before he can get too far, you kiss him, short and sweet. He smiles then too, a little bigger than before, but still quite sad. 

Charles puts on a pleasant facade as you make your way through the paddock back to the car park, taking pictures with waiting fans, signing things for them if he can reach them like most drivers do whilst leaving the track. Most of them are sweet to him. They tell him to keep his head up and believe, that a few bad races don’t discredit how talented of a driver he is. 

There’s a few hecklers as usual, upset fans who’d made bets on Charles’ performance and lost that money, people who say he could be doing so much better—as if them telling him that would magically make everything alright again. You give your own deadpan stare to that lot from where you hover a good distance away from him, not caring that they can definitely see you. 

Charles may be media trained, but you’re not. You have no problems with shutting up a few twats with your expertly crafted death glare. Fred Vasseur might call you in for a meeting with the PR team if he sees the photos on social media, but you don’t care. 

The car ride back to the hotel is understandably silent, but Charles still holds your hand tightly, rubbing absentminded circles along your skin because it soothes him, every so often lifting it to press a kiss to your knuckles. You don’t push him to talk, and you don’t think you need to. You know him well enough to know he’ll let you in when he’s ready. 

Dinner is room service and holds a little more conversation, though you can tell Charles is still off in his own world, thinking about everything that’s gone wrong these past few races, wondering if he could’ve done anything to get a better outcome. 

You come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth, well and ready to go to sleep and forget this day, but instead you find your boyfriend sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up, and you can tell he’s been trying hard not to cry. 

Glassy eyes stare back at you, the beautiful green eyes that you adore filled with so much pain and sadness it makes you want to cry too. His teeth dig hard into his bottom lip, but it still wobbles just the slightest. 

It isn’t until you’re across the room, sliding on your knees to hug him against you that the final string holding Charles up snaps, and he leans into you heavily, pressing his face against your shoulder with a shuddering breath. He cries and cries, and you let him, holding him as tight as you can just so he knows you’ve got him. 

You’ve always got him. 

His body shakes with silent sobs, hot tears soaking into your shirt, and all you can do is murmur quiet reassurances into his ear, even if the feeling of wet cotton against your skin makes you want to peel yourself out of it. Charles needs this, needs to let it all out so he can focus on what lies ahead without being dragged down by the past. 

Eventually, his sobs come to a hiccupping stop. He lifts his head, red rimmed eyes meeting your own tearful ones. His nose is even running a little bit, and if it were anyone else you’d push them away, but it’s Charles. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why…” He trails off without finishing his sentence, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“Oh, my love,” You sigh, stroking both thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. You press your lips against his, hoping it can convey just how much you love him without you having to even utter the words, wiping away his tears gently before drawing back to look at him. As much as you hate it when Charles cries, he’s pretty like this. Tears cling to long, dark lashes, mussed hair a soft tornado of brown from how your fingers had been running through it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. And you never have to explain anything to me, yes? I’m here for you, always, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, leaning back in with his forehead against yours. “Thank you, mon amour. Your support, your love, it means everything to me. You are why I can keep doing this. ” 

You shake your head. “No I’m not.” Charles cocks his head, and you poke his chest, right over his heart. “That is why you can keep doing this.” 

One more poke, this one softer and on his forehead. “And this. Your mind and your heart, your determination, your strength, that is why you keep going. You are the most hard working, talented, brilliant driver I’ve ever seen. You can bounce back from whatever this is, and you will. But not because of me, because that’s the kind of person you are.” 

Charles pats the spot next to him and you oblige, looping your arm through his once you’re there, leaning against his shoulder now. He lays a lingering kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of appreciation towards you. He appreciates you more than he can put into words sometimes, a fact that hasn’t and will never change.  

Even though he’s still frustrated and sad and upset, this silence seems considerably lighter as you sit with him. You hope for brighter days ahead, and you’ll always try your best to be his strongest support system, no matter what the future holds.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[yaksha-lover]

Heyyyyyy~ I was bingeing your Vamp AU! And was wondering how you thought Rugs, Jamil, and Lilia would try to make MC feel safe and comfortable in the mansion? And after a while.... Maybe how they'd try courting them a lil. Just some sweet fluff 😍🥰

Vamp AU! Ruggie, Jamil, Lilia + helping MC feel safe and comfortable at the mansion

Ruggie, after getting closer to you, can’t help but notice that you don’t quite feel ‘at home’ yet at the mansion. He felt the same when he first moved in, so he tries to bring ‘home’ to you. He’ll make you snacks you’ve talked about missing, distract you with the stray cats that he occasionally brings home to feed, bring you books and other small trinkets that he thinks could help with your situation.

If he wanted to start courting you, he’d continue to do the same as above but to an even greater degree. Ruggie bargains with vendors to buy you more expensive things like jewelry or a nice watch. He starts to touch you more (once he knows you’re okay with it), putting his hand on your shoulder when you talk or giving you hugs here and there. Ruggie also likes to try and spend quality time together watching movies so he can try and cuddle closer to you.

Jamil would take pity on you at first, knowing that you’re trapped at the mansion in a situation you never wanted to be in. He’d try to make you feel more at ease by chastising the other vampires if they make you feel uncomfortable with jokes about taking your blood, making sure no one goes too far. He prefers to help you out from a distance, until you begin to want to spend more time with him, now trusting him.

Once Jamil starts to become interested in you, he’ll go out of his way much more to do little things to make you happy. He’ll cook your favourite meals, ask Lilia to let him bring you out of the mansion more often, give you some of his favourite books to read. Jamil shows his care for you in subtle but significant way, even just with the effort he goes through to spend time with you every day.

Lilia knows it’s his fault that you’re trapped here, so he’ll go all out to make your stay at the mansion as good as possible. He’ll spare no expense, providing you with every luxury or necessity you ask for - and some that you don’t. Lilia will redecorate your room to your liking, showing you that you aren’t meant to be treated as a prisoner here, but a treasured guest. He will also try his best to ensure you befriend the other residents so you can have some companionship; he truly hopes you can come to see his mansion as a home, even if it’s only temporary.

If Lilia decides to begin courting you, his treatment of you will become much more personal. Before, he’d try to keep his distance - providing you with items and letting you get closer with the others - but now he’ll take things much more into his own hands. If he knows you reciprocate, Lilia will offer to spend more time with you - reading together in the mansion library, going out to dates restaurants. He’ll also begin to show you more trust, opening up to you about his past and his feelings; he hopes you’ll do the same.

[poopersdoopers]

This is my first post ever:

Imagine Shanks and Mihawk (fem presenting reader) in a poly relationship. No beta. Not reading this over.

TW: spanking, BDSM, cursing, rough fucking.

Both daddy doms.

Where they use you as they like and punish you.

—————————

Mihawk comes home late from work one day, goes into the kitchen to grab some juice to drink. The sight displayed for him is breathtaking.

Shanks has you over the marbled kitchen counter. His hand pressing down against your back, your bottom half stark naked, red where he just spanked you.

“You wanna run that back to me again, little one?”

You moan. It earns another spank.

“What’s my name?”

You flush in embarrassment. “If you’re not going to answer me you’re gonna have to take more punishment. Count after each spank daddy gives you and maybe he’ll forgive you enough to give you a reward”.

Shanks was grinning, a glint danced in his warm chocolate eyes, as he massages your hot flesh with both of his hands. He loved teasing his sweet little girl to the point of tears, especially when he had an audience. He glanced over at his other lover, his smile widening.

Mihawk, as silent as ever, walked over to your form splayed over the kitchen island.

“Be a good girl for Daddy”, he whispered gently in your ear, grabbing the back of your head. You stared at him, with big hazy eyes tears threatening to spill over. You weren’t expecting him to be back so soon.

A wash of shame flushes over you as you remember misbehaving earlier this morning.

——Flashback——-

Rolling your buds between your fingers, begging to be touched. Trying to be oh so quiet. Mihawk woke up first, silently watching.

“Puh..please…”, you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from begging more lest you wake them both up. Your hand snaked down your panties, rubbing between the folds before sticking a manicured finger in, and spreading the wetness all over your throbbing over-sensitive clit. You whined behind your flushed hand,it all being too much at once.

You roughly ground on your clit when suddenly, a hand held your wrist tightly.

“Don’t you dare cum, little one. Not without permission.”

Mihawk stares at you with intense eyes. You gulped, “Sorry daddy…mmmhmm!” He grabbed your wrist away from your throbbing clit. You started to openly cry, “Please I wanna cum!”

“Hush girl or I’m going to punish you more severely”.

You shivered, it’s been a while since Shanks or Mihawk were this attentive towards you.

Mihawk stood up, slightly groggy from sleep, and strongly grabbed your jaw. His intense eyes bore into yours. You couldn’t help but feel so small, as he looked you up and down. You were naked as the day you were born, you stiffened peaks begging to be kissed by his full lips, your pussy leaking steadily all over your massive king’s sized bed where Shanks lay fast asleep.

He pinched your nipple harshly, “ Im going to clean you up so. you don’t leak all over our bed. There will be no talk of this until later my dear. After this you will be the punished tonight, as it seems you miss me that much, my dear.”

As Mihawk walked out barking a behave, you crawled over to Shanks sleeping form. Nuzzling at his neck, before sucking deep hickeys. You felt his strong arms surround you, before ruffling your hair.

“I heard you being naughty baby”, he smirks, “You’ll probably get it punished for this too”.

You whine, something in your chest tightened, you wanted this more than ever. You needed to feel him inside you, claiming you, the little distance between you two too much to bear. You wriggled under the blankets. Discovering Shanks fully hard, putting the girth of it between your hands.

“Can I please, daddy?” You begged with big glossy eyes.

And how could he deny you when you begged so sweetly?

“Sure baby girl but don’t blame me for what happens next”, he chuckled.

Your mouth was on him in no time and by the time Mihawk came back with a wet cloth and bowl, your fate was decided.

You lay fast asleep at the foot of the bed, suckling Shank’s softened cock. Dried tear marks and cum decorated your face.

He stared blankly at Shanks.

He put his hands up defensively, “I can’t say no to such a cute face”.

Later on you begged Shanks to let you cockwarm him. He obliged, letting you sit on him as long as you behaved. Surprisingly enough, you were good for the most part. Nuzzling into his thick neck, hands laying deftly on his chest. He melted, kissing the sides of your face, murmuring about how a good girl you’ve been, while he’s been in meetings all day (with the camera off of course). You cutely moaned at this, his strong calloused hands ran up and down your spine.

He would stay here all day with your warm walls clinging to him, but alas he couldn’t.

“Baby as much as I love this…Daddy has to go to a lunch meeting”.

You whined, gripping to his length with a vice grip. He moaned in response, “Baby you are killing me.”

“You can’t go Daddy! You’re always gone. Stay here with me, I promise I’ll be good.”

“Aww baby I know, we haven’t been paying much attention to you but this is important”, he bopped you on the nose. You responded by biting him on the finger. You could feel his laughter building from the bottom of his stomach and bloom into his chest. It almost made you less mad. Almost.

“Okay as much as you know we both love this,you cannot get in the middle of Daddy’s work. Stand up.”

His voice may have been playful but his eyes glimmered with danger.

Your vice grip on his length didn’t relent, as you started to grind slightly.

Shanks, gripped tightly on your hips with both of his hands.

“You little minx are being naughty so now you have to take what I give you”.

He slammed his hips into you, sharp and fast, chasing his high. Dragging you back onto his cock. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe, you could only feel Shanks.

“Daddy I—Im gonna cu-“, he pulled your wide hips off him in an instant.

“We said no cumming without permission. Clean Daddy up on your knees.”

You obeyed. Sniffing at yet another orgasm ripped away. Such mean Daddies.

You took the length of Shanks in your mouth.

“You ready? I am not going to be gentle, little one. You have disappointed me.”

Your sobs were muffled by his cock.

“How are we doing baby? 1 Finger up means green, 2 means yellow, 3 means stop.”

You held a finger up. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down to his pelvis. Petting your head softly.

“Okay princess hold on tight, if you need to stop pinch my thigh. Can you demonstrate?”

You pinched him. “Ahh Good girl.”

He roughly fucked your throat. One hand on your head, the other texting his executive assistant to reschedule his lunch meetings and cancel the rest of his afternoon.

He looked you in the eyes, before glancing and seeing you rubbing your puffy clit. His fault, he should have been watching his slutty baby girl.

“Hands behind your back bad girl. Daddy’s gonna give all everything to you right now”. You moaned on his length, spit dribbling down your jaw. He sat back, pushing his length out of your sloppy mouth. Taking it in his hands, rubbing down the side of a vein. You gasped slightly, lips tingling, throat too used to be speak. You whimpered.

“So fucking sweet”. Open your mouth and Daddy will give you what you want.

You obeyed. He spat in your mouth.

“Swallow. Good girl.”

He grabbed the back of your head again.

“My cute little cock dumb baby”.

He chuckled darkly, before slapping his thick cock across your flushed cheeks, smearing pre cum. “Hold still baby.”

He added a few small smacks to the rest of your head, before deciding to decorate it.

“Open your mouth baby girl, daddy has a gift for you”. He slammed his cock down your throat as you struggled to breathe.

“You still green, little one?”

You held a finger up, tears streaming down your throat.

“Good girl, be extra good. Daddy’s going to send mean Daddy a present. Now suck.”

You sucked at the head, as Shanks started the video. Licking the underside and tracing the vein down his thick length. You both moaned.

“Fucckk baby just like that. Being so good for us.”

Look at how much of a fucking slut you are. You took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head, he grabbed your head and edged it down to his pelvis again. You swallowed. He traced the lines of his cock in your throat.

“Shit. Im gonna cum.” He stopped the video in favor of grabbing your face, to fuck you faster. He pulled out and you whined for him.

“Shhh be good and Daddy will give you a treat. Open that mouth”.

His hand sped up down his length, before slamming back in you.

“Swallow”.

That you did as you felt him shoot down your throat, he eased up and came across your fiery hot face.

“Hold on one second, baby. Let me show Mihawk how much of a pretty little whore you are”. You flushed in embarrassment. Will Daddy know you were being naughty again?

Your core was on fire. You hoped he did.

“So beautiful”.

He snapped a picture of your cum strewn face. “Now lick your lips and swallow. Show daddy after you’ve finished.”

You did just that, shivering.

“Good girl, now what do we say?”

“Th-thank you, Shanks”.

“Come on doll, you know that’s not my name”.

You stayed silent. Wanting to be punished further. Basking in the glow of his anger, his praise, his hands. You watched as he sent the videos and pictures to your lover.

—-Which lead you to where you were at right now—-

“Perhaps we have been too lenient towards you, little one. Perhaps we have not been as attentive as you needed us to be.”

You sobbed, the knot in your chest all day had been released.

“Don’t worry we are going to make it better all night. Right after your punishment is over. Now hush darling and let us take care of you.”

He kissed you deeply. You felt breathless. Finally falling down into that hazy place.

“Good girl.”

Mihawk pinned your hands down to the island as Shanks began his spanks.

“What do we say after after each spank my darling?”, his intense eyes scanning over your body.

“Th-thank you Daddy!”

“Good girl, but we have to start over so you can count. Can you give Daddy a color?”

“Green..Daddy I’m Daddy Im sorry Ill be good I promise!” You sob and shudder.

“I know baby.” A spank to behind emphasized his point.

“One. Thank you Daddy.”

A thawck to the back of the thigh.

“Two. Thank you Daddy”.

Another hit to the other thigh and lower ass. “Three? No Four Thank you Daddy”.

The spanks got harder and in quicker succession until you were left a shivering, slobbering mess. Mihawk’s grip on you never faltered, no matter how much you bucked up or twitched in pain. “Mmmm thank you Daddies. Thank you.”

“I think you’re ready for your reward now…hmm?”

“I agree. Our little one is so pliant now.”

Both men looked at you like wolves.

[atinyniki]

big heart, little actions.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee minho x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, horror movies, nightmares, crying, reassurance, love confessions.

authors note: had a thought... so i wrote it ! this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 919

everyone knows how minho is, even his members. ever since you started talking, you’ve had to learn to get used to it. it was a little difficult to rid yourself of your habits, but you wanted to be as amazing of a girlfriend as you possibly could be to him.

unfortunately, that meant almost no touching. sometimes he’d hug you or hold your hand, but that was just about the extent of it. he did show love in other ways, of course.

he’d buy you gifts, help you make dinner, spend lots of time with you, but you crave more. it feels selfish to want even more than the things he had to offer, but you can’t help it. 

you’re big on skinship but he isn’t. you need to respect that, so that’s what you do. you show affection in the same ways he does, as to not clash with any of his boundaries.

today though, it became incredibly difficult. work has been getting incredibly exhausting, and you’re thinking about quitting. although it isn’t the best option, you’re miserable there. 

your boss hates you, as do your coworkers, completely confused as to why you’d work so hard with a rich boyfriend. things only got worse from there.

“jagi? i’m home!”

you turn your head slowly towards the door, giving him a light smile. “hey…”

“bad day?”

you nod your head lightly, and minho walks to the kitchen to fix you a plate of the food he brought home. 

he brings it to you once he’s done, sitting on the couch next to you but keeping a fair distance. “you wanna watch a movie? just to get your mind off it?”

“sure.”

the two of you sit in silence while the movie plays, jumpscares coming from every which direction. you flinch every time you see one, curling closer into the corner of the couch.

you don’t want to say anything of course, as it seems like minhos enjoying this. you try to suppress your little whimpers, squirming in your seat as to not disturb him. 

the movie ends, but you don’t even notice it, still too shaken up. “you okay?”

you only nod, scared that if you talk you’ll just spew out your fears along with word vomit.

you stand up, “i’m a bit tired. probably going to go to sleep…”

minho is a little confused, he knows how much you hate going to sleep early. you climb into bed, minho not far behind. “i’ll sleep too, then. i have nothing better to do anyways”, he giggles.

you smile at the sound of his laugh, missing the way his face would always scrunch up and show his perfect bunny teeth.

still too exhausted to speak, you lay down onto your side of the bed, facing minhos back.

you want to reach out so badly. you want to tell him to come closer, to hold you. to kiss you. but you can’t. the two foot long distance between the two of you still remains, but you’re too tired to cry about it now. 

you slowly drift off to sleep, trying not to think about it.

the peace didn’t last for long of course, and your slumber is broken by a blood curdling nightmare. maybe you shouldn’t have watched a horror movie tonight.

you suppress your sobs, keeping them down so that minho doesn’t hear, but it’s already too late.

he turns around, looking you in the eyes with a concerned look on his face. “why are you crying…?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just a nightmare.”

he nods in acknowledgment, thinking about ways he could possibly comfort you. you can tell he’s thinking just by the look on his face, but you don’t know what it’s about. 

you continue thinking about what happened in your nightmare, your sobs getting a little louder. minho didn’t notice it before because he was thinking, but it breaks him out of his trance.

almost immediately, he grabs your arm, pulling you flush against him. your eyes go wide, incredibly confused as to what’s happening right now.

he swipes away one of your tears with his thumb, his actions tender. “why don’t you ever touch me?”, you whisper.

he looks down at you, a little confused. “is my touch not comforting?”

“what? i- no! that’s not it, don’t worry. i just don’t like much physical contact.”

you nod your head, finally accepting the fact that these things aren’t gonna happen often, as much as your truly want them to. 

he cups your cheek with his hand, looking at you with stars in his eyes. “i love you.”

he catches you by surprise once again.

“what?”

he pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “i love you. i’m sorry i don’t show it.”

before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a kiss. more specifically, the best kiss you’ve ever had.

the first kiss he’s ever given you.

“minho? is something wrong…?”

“no? why would anything be wrong?”

“i don’t know, you’re just… acting all sappy”

his heart clenches, he knows you don’t mean it in a bad way, and that you’re just confused. “i… i don’t like seeing you cry.”

he pulls you even closer again, kissing over your eyelids and gently rubbing your back with his hand.

you start crying even more, finally giving in and wrapping him in a hug. “thank you… i really needed this.”

“i did too.”

a moment of silence.

“minho.”

“hm?”

“i love you too.”

<3

[foxholewriting]

Orphan Heart

Crux/Male Reader - Mystery/UA sorta - Words/ 1,042

Pronouns - He/Him ; Pet Name(s) - None

Mention - Talk of dead parents (Or parents that never existed)

This isn't fully canon accurate, that is okay! Unless the creator asks me to change or delete this I won't change a thing, this is sorta an AU/theory series

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

Half past 2am, it’s been three weeks since Y/N had ended up in a messed up version of home and he had barely settled down. Determined to find a way home or even find a way to make this place less deadly, both with souring results. Black and Crux were to be avoided or for now kept at a distance, was it hard for Y/N to do that? Maybe. But he knew the only reason he was even here was because of them or at least Crux, it was hard to get any sort of information from anyone it was as if he suddenly appeared in the universe and there was never a trace of him before. 

If what Crux said was right and every universe or timeline or dimension had one of Y/N that means there either should be someone already here that's some form of him or at least an idea of what the hell was happening. The libraries weren’t very helpful, either books were in languages Y/N had never seen or the information was too complex. Talking to anyone about leaving this place got him weird stares or more questions that he didn’t want to answer, why did they want to stay? 

“Should be around here.” Y/N mumbled as he held a crumpled piece of paper, the writing was like chicken scratch and words overlapped but it said to meet at the tree. He figured if he died he died, if he learned anything was that he had no control over this world or his own fate. He didn’t have the heart to tell Grete on the off chance something did happen to him and he never comes back that she’d feel guilty for not stopping him or worse try to get Crux to stop him. 

Navigating the tree was weird, it felt overwhelming like he knew everything and nothing at the same time. He stepped closer making sure to avoid being seen and taking extra caution to not be near the scientist, something about him made Y/N skin crawl. 

Lost in thought on what this random meeting could be around he fell over a metal box, tucked away inside the rusty metal was baby photos of Y/N but they felt wrong. Everything was wrong with them, he touched the plastic material and even that felt wrong. It was him as a baby in the photos but he didn’t recognize the people around him, but in one photo they were kissing his cheek and another celebrating his first birthday they all looked eerie. An aged letter sat at the very bottom of the box, he plucked it up and unfolded it. 

“Dear Y/N, 

Our sweet baby boy, I hope you don’t miss us nearly as much as we miss you. Maybe you won’t even remember us if this goes well, maybe you’ll find a safe family and you’ll be protected. We can only hope, but in case you do remember us then we are sorry. We are sorry we couldn’t protect you, we are sorry that you are probably lost and confused, maybe even hurt but remember to keep that book we gave you. That will protect you.

In case you don’t remember us, why are you here? You shouldn’t be here, you should be at home any home but here. Don’t be fooled by the tree or the people or the ones that watch you”

The letter ended there, the bottom half was torn off and the back was smeared with black ink, Y/N checked the metal box no book or anything else was in there, just this half torn paper that gave him little to work off of and baby photos with people he’s never met. The air suddenly felt thicker, even more than usual for being near the tree and Y/N learned fast enough to get the hell out of the area when he felt that feeling. Sprinting away before whatever it was decided to pull it’s next move, once tucked away behind a dumpster he tucked the half letters and photos away in his pocket before the long walk back to Grete’s house. 

Small beeps and buzzes came from the phone, which Y/N ignored for the last few days Black and Crux seem extra persistent to get a hold of him which only drove him to ignore them harder. Almost dying wasn’t in his cards again after Black seemed to be pretty determined to put himself and Y/N into life ending situations, but Crux was different. Y/N has seen him around but did his best to avoid him, he was looking for his own answer and didn’t want to be wrapped up in what nonsense that he could be dragged into by Crux or Black or any other creature that walked this dimension. 

When he returned home the house was empty but thankfully he had remembered to grab the key Grete gave him when he first moved in. The house felt warm unlike everything in this dimension; it felt like it wouldn’t kill Y/N with one wrong move. The room had slowly been changed over the past few weeks, different things he found, news articles on missing citizens, notes he rummaged for in the scientist’s trash and other miscellaneous things scattered across the surfaces. The letter, photos, and the meeting notes were added to the pile he decided later he’d look through everything he had to piece together a new lead but as if this moment the only thing he could think about was the letter. 

Who was watching him, was this planned way before the accident? Was Crux wrong about saying this was an accident, was this all meant to happen but doesn’t that mean that Y/N didn’t die and was still alive? He shook his head and sat down at his desk to write more notes. There wasn’t a defined answer for any of this but maybe he was a step closer with these photos, he made mental notes to take the photos down to the library and maybe he could find photos of these people if anything he could match handwriting to other things he may find.

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

@doubledeadstudio

Sorry for the influx of my confusion in the inbox hope my little fic shows that i'm not that crazy

[subjecta5newtella]

some nalby for @mazerunner-rarepairs month - AU square

It’s late evening after a light post-season practice, and Alby and Newt are headed for the dining hall when Minho catches up with them. 

“Alby!” he calls, jogging over and blocking their exit from the soccer fields. 

Alby sighs. “What?”

“Three of the freshmen challenged Thomas and I to a scrimmage, and everyone else has already left.”

“I’ve already cooled down, I’m not going to start running again.”

“Aw, come on. Thomas and I could beat them two-on-three, but that’ll damage their morale.”

“Call someone else back, then. I’m done for the day.”

Technically, he’s done in general. He’s a graduating senior who doesn’t have to come to practice at all anymore, but as the outgoing captain, he still feels a sense of responsibility. And maybe he’s not quite ready to let go, but that’s another thing entirely. Still, he draws the line at getting all sweaty again because of Minho’s pride or whatever. 

In a stunning display of self-restraint, Minho concedes that battle, then turns. “Hey, Newt?”

“What?”

“If we all promise to go easy on you, do you wanna join?”

Alby catches the exact moment when something sparks to life in Newt’s eyes.

It’s probably a bad idea. Newt can run on his bad leg, but only short distances, and his ankle and hip both have a tendency to hurt the next day. The shift in his balance makes dribbling more challenging than it used to be—he can do it, but it’s not the simple thing it once was. Newt knows all that intimately, of course, but Alby also knows he misses soccer like nothing else, had spent an evening on the bathroom floor in tears between bouts of throwing up vodka on the anniversary of the day he’d been told he’d never play competitively again. He’s a student coach now, and a damn good one in Alby’s (admittedly biased) opinion, but that’s far from the same. 

“You’ll go easy on me, eh?” Newt says, with a smile that looks a little dangerous.

“Well, you know, it’s been a while, we don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to convince me to play against you.”

“Aw, come on. The freshmen are getting way too cocky.”

“Fine. But if you mention anything about going easy on me again, I’m betraying you and joining them.”

He hands his backpack over to Alby, who can’t help but say, “Be careful.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” He jogs out onto the field, managing his limp with relative smoothness.

Thomas does a little bit of a double take when he sees Newt joining them, but he drops back to take up a position on his right. He’d played right midfielder when he’d transferred to their school, before Newt had moved him to the left to cover a skill gap, and that combination of Thomas and Minho on their left flank had scored them the game winning goal in conference championships. 

It’s not just Alby’s biased opinion, really. Newt’s a good coach. He’s already gotten an offer to stay on next year as a paid position, and he’s probably going to take it, which means Alby needs to find a job here, even though neither of them have actually talked about that out loud. It’s the two of them. It’ll always be the two of them. 

A couple minutes into the scrimmage, Newt strips the ball from George and sends it up to Minho to do the rest of the running, and in that fast, fluid movement, Alby remembers the way he used to be. Starting lineup, number five, center forward. Quick. Vicious. Glorious. Other teams complained about facing him, and every time they did, Alby felt a stab of pride. People watched him, people admired him, but there were times when Newt would pull off something impossible and look back with a smile that was sharp and wild and beautiful and Alby had known it was for him.

Alby loves this version of Newt without question and he knows he will for the rest of his life, but sometimes it’s hard not to mourn the way things were supposed to be. It’s selfish, maybe. His life is not the one most affected. Knowing it’s selfish doesn’t stop him from feeling it sometimes, 

Newt’s alive, though, which is something Alby doesn’t take for granted, and in the present moment he’s celebrating Minho’s goal. It’s a little tasteless, maybe, but it’s also their first time playing together since sophomore year and they’ve already scored, so they might be entitled.

The game continues and Alby loses himself in it, watching the way Newt and Minho click back into being a solid offensive unit, how Thomas works well with the two of them even in a position that he hasn’t played in a while. It’s easy to forget that he and Newt have never actually played together. They’re a good team. They could’ve been a great one, but that’s the kind of unproductive reasoning Alby tries to shut down whenever Newt gets caught up in it, so he does his best to close it off within himself as well. 

After about ten minutes, Newt slows, then stops, mimes bowing out. He joins Alby on the sidelines as the others keep messing around, retying his hair as he does. “Can’t keep up with the youth anymore.”

“Hurt?”

“Nah. Just old. No stamina anymore.”

Alby’s not sure he believes that, because Newt’s barely even breathing hard, but Alby lets it go because he also doesn’t look like he’s in pain, either. He’ll take an excuse over a breaking point any day.

“You looked good out there,” Alby says, handing Newt’s backpack back to him. 

Newt gives him a sarcastic little salute. “Thanks, Captain. I was awaiting your approval.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt says, then after a moment adds, “Thanks.”

Things will never be what they used to be. It’s a waste of time to pretend otherwise. But he has Newt, and Newt has him, and they’ll get through together. They always do. 

Alby laces his fingers through Newt’s, and they head off for dinner. 

[unholly-reader]

Darling - Hamish Duke x fem!reader

Just a little something for us all Hamish lovers <3

Please, keep in mind - English is NOT my first language, so I apologize in advance for any errors.

Enjoy

Warnings: a little emotional, fluff

_______________________________

- Vera, are you really that blind? They will remember sooner or later. The hides are incredibly powerful and sensible to magic, might I add. They will not succumb to your wishes. You have to find a different way to convince them to the ideals of the Order. 

The Grand Magus turned away from her sister, huffing out clearly annoyed with the reprimand. 

- I assure you, Aria, your little wolf friends will not pose a threat to us once we induct them into the Order. But first we need to control them. 

- Good God, Vera. These are werewolves, not puppies. You will make an enemy out of them much quicker than you may befriend them. Maybe Jack Morton will be more amicable considering his feelings for miss Drake, however I can’t say the same thing for the rest of them. Lilith won’t forget it. Randall won’t forget it. Hamish won’t…

- Oh please, this again? He doesn’t remember you. He won’t remember you. He will never be back the way you want him to. Deal with it, you big baby. 

- Enough! 

Aria shouted out like an enraged animal sending waves of wind around her settling between the books and furniture fit inside the reliquary. Although Vera never feared her sister’s magic, as the time went by, she started seeing her true power. As much as it didn’t bother her she began worrying if she had overlooked her too much. 

- You don’t get to take him away from me and then rub it in my face, Vera. I don’t care you’re Grand Magus. I don’t care you have the power to destroy me or dispose of me or even kill me. I have loved him for years and there’s no way in Hell I’ll ever stop. Even if he doesn’t remember me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for tonight. In case you forgot, we are celebrating your new Acolytes. 

Before Vera could mutter a single word, Aria left the reliquary, heading to the one place she knew she could calm down before the upcoming event of the night. It was as if her feet dragged her to the Den by themselves as she felt no control over her body. One lonely tear slid down her cheek as the house showed up in the distance and all the memories, she made there came running down like an avalanche. Pushing all her emotions aside she stepped confidently inside the Den, heading straight for the stairs and eventually to his room. It still looked as neat as it always has. Bed perfectly made but still wrinkled from the last time she slept there. All his clothes hanging in the closet, his vest and shirts and sweaters. His smell lingering in the room as if he never left. But then again, she knew he would never come back there. 

And just as she did it countless times before, she slowly reached for the one cashmere sweater he always loved and she slid it over her head, feeling his scent fill her nostrils. She couldn’t cry anymore as she has already cried many nights hugging his clothes and sleeping in his bed, where they used to sleep together before. Her dark brown hair splayed on his gray pillows as she laid on her back, hugging her arms gently feeling the fabric of his sweater. 

She didn’t feel the time passing by until one moment she heard some noises coming from downstairs. Normally she would have been alarmed by those sounds but she knew perfectly well nobody came down to the Den and so she had no reason to fear uninvited guests, so she didn’t even move, snuggling even more into his pillow. She chose to ignore the silent steps coming up the stairs same way she ignored the slight crack in the door when it swung open. Only then did she sit up on the king-sized bed and looking at the entrance her heart stopped. 

- Hamish? What are you.. I mean, who are you and how did you find this place? You shouldn’t be here…

- Aria, I remember. 

His voice. Soft as ever, calming as a rainy day in the middle of summer. He stood in the doorway dressed in his somewhat usual attire – the pale blue shirt and a vest fitting him so damn well she almost forgot how to breathe. As soon as she heard his words, she slid off the bed, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as she absentmindedly hugged her form still clad in his sweater. 

- You remember…? 

She could barely speak as her she couldn’t believe her eyes. She stood still frozen in place as Hamish quickly approached her, stretching his arms towards her. 

- Come here, you. 

As her last doubt finally fell, immediately she threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hamish instinctively hugged her back, hiding his face in her shoulder. Holding her close like he used to so many times before finally felt he was himself again. He breathed in her intoxicating scent as memories flooded his mind. Their first date. The first time he kissed her sweet lips. The first night they spent together wrapped in each other’s arms. Aria was barely registering what was happening around because all her focus was on Hamish and his arms holding her so tightly. She let all her anger and rage and overwhelming sadness out, crying inro his chest like a little baby. She clawed at his arms desperately trying to reassure herself, that it was not a dream. 

- I missed you so, so much, Hamish. Every day was like a reoccurring nightmare watching you live your life without me in it. I could barely stand it. 

- Shh, I’m here now, darling. I’m here, everything is alright now – he kept whispering sweet nothings into her ear, holding her trembling body close to him. Slowly he cupped her cheek with his right hand, forcing her to look at him. She was crying her eyes out, mascara slowly dripping down the corner of her lashes, but to him she was still the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes upon. 

- Don’t you ever forget me again, Hamish Duke. Don’t you even dare. 

- Believe it or not, even when I was supposed to forget you, I remembered. I kept hearing your voice in my dreams, your laughter, seeing you face every night I went to sleep. Missing my darling Aria.