#and not just because of that but not helped by it she's very distant. just enough to be noticeable but not enough to alienate her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ojsimpsondidit · 2 days ago

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Familiar Flesh- Daniela Avanzini

✏️: 7th Member au, Zombie apocalypse, Post-Apocalyptic, Survival Horror, Blood and Gore, Disturbing imagery, Dark humour, Tension. This idea lowkey came to me in a dream

It should have been just another morning.

The kind where the sun was too bright, the air too humid, and the seven of you were power-walking down the street because Manon spent twenty minutes choosing sunglasses and now you were all in danger of being late for rehearsal.

Except… the street didn’t sound like it usually did on a normal morning.

No chatter from the cafés. No impatient honking from the main road. There was just the low hum of distant sirens and the flutter of loose paper sliding across cracked pavement. A single delivery bike was left abandoned in the middle of the crosswalk- still upright, the wheels slowly spinning like its rider had just vanished mid-ride.

You tried not to stare at it.

Manon, of course, didn’t care at all.

“I swear to God, Lara, if we’re late again Sophia’s gonna put me on dish washing duty for a week-”

“You’re the reason we are late!” Lara shot back, yanking her backpack higher and glaring at Manon’s sunglasses. “Who spends that long posing in a mirror during an apocalypse?”

“Apoca-?” Manon laughed, loud and carefree, even though there was nothing funny about the way the wind smelled like smoke. “Girl, it’s just a little blackout and some drama downtown. Chill.”

Sophia ran a hand through her hair in a very I am one more argument away from losing it kind of way. “Okay, arguing doesn’t help. We just need to get to the studio and check in. Once we’re there, we’ll figure out what’s going-”

She was abruptly cut off by a loud crash- one that echoed three streets over.

Metal on metal.

Then… screaming.

Everyone froze.

Megan swallowed. “Was that… a car crash?”

No one answered.

Lara took a slow step back, eyes wide now. “Maybe we should… not go that way.”

Daniela’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, curls shifting in the breeze as she glanced toward you. “Stay close, okay?”

Before you could reply, Manon let out a nervous laugh and elbowed you lightly. “She’s scared. She wants you to hold her hand.”

“Shut up, Manon.” Daniela didn’t even bother looking at her- but the tips of her ears were very, very pink.

Another scream tore through the air- closer this time.

Sophia turned sharply. “Everyone. Move. Now. We’re taking the side street.”

And just like that, the seven of you broke into a run.

You hurriedly veer into the narrow side street, cursing under your breath- sneakers skidding over the uneven pavement as you follow Sophia’s lead. The alley is lined with dumpsters and fire escapes- and blessedly silent. For a moment, all you can hear is the frantic breathing of six other girls running beside you.

Then you see it.

A delivery van, smashed front-first into a brick wall. The windshield is cracked like a spiderweb, and red smears drag across the driver-side door as though someone tried- desparately- to claw their way out.

Megan slows to a stop, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s blood.”

Lara’s voice drops to a whisper. “No way. That’s not-that’s not real, right? People don’t just…”

Sophia steps in front of everyone, blocking the view with her body like she can physically shield all of you from it. “Don’t look. Keep moving. We just need to get to the studio, and-”

The van door slams from the inside.

Everyone jumps.

Something thumps against the metal again- harder. A wet, dragging sound, like nails scraping across soaked fabric.

Daniela moves first.

She reaches back, fingers brushing yours without even looking. Not grabbing- just checking that you’re right there. Then she steps forward slowly, shoulders squared, toward the van.

“Dani- don’t,” Sophia warns, voice thin with panic.

Daniela doesn’t answer. She’s staring at the van window now. One more step-

A face slams into the cracked glass.

Or… what used to be a face. The skin is grey and ruined, lips torn away to expose teeth soaked in black-red. One eye is missing entirely. The other rolls wildly in its socket as the thing snarls and snaps at the glass between you.

Megan screams.

Yoonchae yanks her backwards.

Lara curses in a foreign language.

Manon, eyes wide, finally stops smiling.

Daniela steps back, bumping into you. You catch her arm without thinking.

She’s shaking.

“Run,” Sophia breathes. “RUN!”

You bolt.

Gravel flies under your shoes as all seven of you tear back down the alley, hearts hammering against ribcages. Something crashes behind you- metal twisting, glass shattering- and then you hear it.

Footsteps.

Fast footsteps.

Loud. Wet. Wrong.

“WHY IS IT RUNNING?!” Lara yells, voice an octave higher than normal as she practically flings herself around the corner.

“WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!” Manon snaps back- then immediately shrieks when the thing snarls only a few meters behind her. “OKAY NEVER MIND GOOD REASON-”

“Car’s outside the café!” Sophia shouts over the chaos. “Just make it to Daniela’s car and we go straight to the studio!”

You had all come in two separate cars- Megan’s and Daniela’s. You don’t even have time to laugh at the fact that she just sold Megan’s car out like that, confirming the already well-known fact that Megan was a horrible driver.

You tear past the abandoned bike from earlier- the wheel still spinning- and shoot across the crosswalk toward the café. Lara nearly slips in the middle of the road.

Megan grabs the back of her hoodie. “LEFT, GO LEFT-”

Another scream- this time from some other street- and more figures begin stumbling out of a bus stop up ahead. Bloody skin. Missing parts- which, cliche much? How’d they even have time to lose all those limbs?

“Oh my god, they multiply,” Manon groans in disgust. “Like mould.”

“Focus, Manon!” Daniela snaps, one hand wrapped tight around your wrist as she drags you toward the parked mustang. “Keys, keys, KEYS-”

She skids to a halt beside her red car and practically body-slams herself against the driver door, digging frantically in her pocket. You crash right into her back, nearly sending the both of you to the ground. Manon scrambles into the passenger side. Lara and Yoonchae pile into the back, still shouting over each other in two different languages. Megan’s halfway in when she stops and looks at you in horror.

“WAIT. DID WE PAY FOR THE MUFFINS?!”

“MEGAN!!”

Daniela finally gets the key in. “GET IN- NOW!”

You jump in last, slamming the door just as a blood-soaked hand smacks against the window.

For a heartbeat, all seven of you are frozen. Wide-eyed. Breathing in ragged unison.

Then Daniela turns the key and the engine roars to life.

“Next stop,” Manon pants from the front seat, clutching Sophia’s arm like a lifeline, “dance studio or hell itself, I guess.”

Daniela floors it.

The car swerves around an overturned mailbox, tires screeching. Everyone’s still panting, eyes flicking back to the rear window like the thing might reappear at any second.

You’re the first to break the silence:

“What the fuck is going on?”

Sophia rubs her temples. “I-I don’t know, okay? The power was out this morning and the radio kept cutting-”

“This is why I tell you to put on the news every morning!” Lara bursts out, pointing accusingly at Manon from the backseat.

Megan whips around in her seat. “Why are you yelling at me?!”

“Because you’re the only one who spends two hours scrolling TikTok instead of checking what’s happening in the world!”

You throw your hands up. “Okay- and I mean this with all due respect- we haven’t even hit 20 yet. Why would we watch the news every morning? The only person old enough to be doing all that is Manon.”

The entire car collectively snorts at that.

Manon turns her head very, very slowly toward you. “Wow, Y/N. Fuck you, honestly.”

Daniela, despite the death grip she has on the steering wheel, lets out a laugh under her breath. “She’s not wrong though.”

“Dani, not you agreeing-”

“I’m just saying!”

Another distant explosion cuts the argument short. A column of dark smoke curls up over the rooftops near the main road.

Sophia’s voice drops to a whisper. “Just… hurry. Please.”

Daniela presses the pedal even harder.

Her Mustang tore through the near-empty streets, tires crunching over loose gravel and chunks of broken asphalt. Smoke coiled from a distant bakery, black against the morning sun, and stray papers whipped like frightened birds across the cracked sidewalks. Storefronts that had once been optimistic and too-bright were now shuttered, windows smashed, some glass glinting like teeth in the light. The faint smell of burning plastic and something coppery- like blood- hung in the air.

Inside the car, it was chaos squeezed into metal. Five girls piled into the tiny backseat: Lara pressed against Yoonchae, Sophia leaned against Megan, and somehow everyone’s limbs were tangling in ways that made even standing feel luxurious. You were wedged between Sophia and Megan, and despite the adrenaline, it was so awkward- like being caught in an overstuffed suitcase that could tip at any second.

“Yoonchae, look away,” Sophia called out firmly, her hand on the youngest’s shoulder as her eyes flicked to a crumpled figure sprawled over a sidewalk corner.

Yoonchae obeyed, chewing her lip and peeking only through the corner of one eye, silent but trembling.

Through the windshield, the city was breaking apart. Cars were abandoned mid-lane, doors hanging open. The traffic lights flickered erratically, yellow and red pulses cutting shadows across the street. A toppled street sign groaned in the wind. Somewhere, metal clanged against concrete like a warning bell.

Daniela’s hands gripped the wheel tight, knuckles white, but her eyes were sharp and calculating. “We’re almost there. Just a few more blocks.”

Another scream tore across the street, closer this time, raw and human. A man stumbled past a burnt-out café, dragging one leg as if it barely listened to him. His clothes were torn, and his arms flailed-though not in a panic that made sense. His head lolled unnaturally, and something about the way his jaw moved made you freeze mid-breath.

“Fuck. I can’t-”

Manon also yelped, clutching at the passenger side door. “Ohhh… that’s… that is not… that is so wrong.”

Sophia’s hand flew to your shoulder, squeezing in what was obviously meant to be a comforting manner yet had no effect on you. “Y/N, don’t look. Everyone- just- look straight ahead. Eyes forward. Breathe.”

You did your best, but the pounding in your chest made it impossible to stop glancing. Shadows moved where there shouldn’t have been any, and the faint scraping sound of nails against asphalt followed each block like a heartbeat.

The tension in the cramped car was electric. Five girls jammed in the back, shifting and bumping into each other with every swerve, all of you silent except for gasps and occasional panicked giggles from Manon or Megan. The Mustang felt impossibly small, like the city itself was closing in on you.

“Just… please, let us get to the studio,” Sophia whispered, voice strained but steady. “Then we can figure out what’s happening.”

Daniela nodded, jaw tight, tires rolling over broken glass. “Almost there. Don’t freak out. Not yet.”

And yet, even as the building came into view, darkened windows staring like empty eyes, you all knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Inside the cramped car, nobody moved immediately. Five girls still squished into the backseat shifted uncomfortably, limbs tangled in ways that made you silently grateful for the leather bucket seats in the front.

Daniela killed the engine with a firm click. The silence that followed hit like a weight. You almost wished you keep driving- away from all this- yet even you knew the dance studio was your best bet. Maybe Grant or Sohey could help- somehow. A dance choreography probably wouldn’t do much against the walking dead, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Actually, it probably world hurt- a lot.

“Okay,” Sophia said, sliding out first and keeping her hand on Yoonchae’s shoulder. “Slow. Stay together. And Yoonchae- look away.”

The youngest ducked instinctively, pressing herself into Lara’s side as if she could melt into her hoodie.

Manon leaned over the back of the front seat, whispering through gritted teeth with a nervous laugh. “Uh… smallest car, biggest apocalypse… can someone invent a seatbelt that’s actually a force field?”

“Focus, Manon,” Daniela muttered, already swinging her door open.

You clambered out after her, careful to avoid the shards of glass glinting in the sun like teeth, and immediately noticed the subtle chaos creeping into familiar places. The dance studio doors, usually polished and welcoming, had scuff marks and grime along the frame. The tiny parking lot was scattered with overturned trash bins, a skateboard wedged in the gutter, and in the distance, the sound of something dragging across concrete made your stomach twist.

Lara, trying to be as fearless as she could to comfort Yoonchae, laughed nervously. “So… new rehearsal theme: apocalypse chic?”

Manon snorted but immediately stiffened when the scrape grew closer. “Yeah… maybe let’s not.”

Sophia gripped your arm as she led the group forward. “Quiet. Eyes open. And remember, this isn’t a joke- if something’s out there, we can’t-”

A sudden metallic clang echoed from inside the studio.

Everyone froze.

Daniela’s curls shifted in the breeze, lips pressed tight. “Yeah… okay. Definitely not a joke.”

And as the seven of you stepped closer to the door, every familiar detail of the studio- the smooth wooden floors, the mirrored walls, the tiny pile of old water bottles in the corner- felt alien and threatened, like even the safest place you knew might already be gone.

Manon peeked around the corner of the studio door, eyes wide and mischievous in a way that somehow made it worse. “I volunteer Y/N to go in first.”

“What?! No fucking way!” you snapped, backing up a step, heart hammering. Your back collided with Danielas front, which was kind of reassuring.

“Shh! Keep your voices down!” Sophia hissed, glancing nervously toward the street outside.

Lara covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Manon… are you serious?”

“I am deadly serious,” Manon answered, grinning. “It’s the only fair way to test if the floor’s haunted or zombie-infested. Or both. Y/N gets the honors.”

You gaped at her. “Deadly serious? You didn’t even think about the dragging noises out there-”

“I agree with Manon,” Megan mumbled from the corner of the group, voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N made fun of my driving skills this morning. Called me a ‘disaster on wheels.’ It’s only fair.”

You spun toward her. “Megan! You did not just side with her!”

Manon clapped once, delight twinkling in her eyes. “See? It’s unanimous.”

You rolled your eyes, holding up your hands. “Okay, okay! But for the record, I’m not actually going in alone.”

Lara laughed, elbowing Manon. “Yeah, yeah, just making you feel special. Team entry, everyone.”

Sophia finally exhaled, shaking her head with a small groan. “Guys, let’s move. And quietly this time, please.”

The joke hung in the air, a brief, ridiculous bubble of levity amid the creeping tension outside. You all knew the danger was real, but for now, at least, you could still laugh.

That much was apparent as you took your first step inside. The air hit you instantly- stale, heavy, and faintly acrid. Dust motes danced in the streaks of morning light filtering through the cracked blinds, and the familiar wooden floor felt oddly… cold, almost hostile beneath your shoes.

Sophia paused, glancing back at Megan and Yoonchae. “Take Dani’s keys and head back to the car, both of you. Keep it locked but ready for us if we have to run out.”

Megan’s eyes widened, but she nodded, gripping Yoonchae’s hand as they crept back toward the door. The youngest flinched at every creak of the studio, silently counting her breaths to stay calm.

Manon elbowed Lara, whispering, “Great. Now it’s officially an apocalypse scavenger hunt. You in for team ‘don’t die’?”

Lara snorted, shoulders tense but smirking. “Always.”

You followed Sophia and Daniela further inside, every step echoing unnaturally in the empty space. Mirrors along the wall reflected your group back at you, multiplied and distorted, shadows stretching like hands reaching from the corners. The air smelled faintly of old sweat and cleaning supplies, but underneath it was something coppery… a reminder of the chaos outside.

Daniela’s curls brushed against your arm as she moved beside you, her eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. “Stay close,” she murmured, not as a command, more as a plea.

The studio that had always felt safe now felt like a stage set for something sinister, and for the first time, you realised the jokes, the laughs, the teasing-they were just small shields against the unease creeping up your spine.

Manon whispered from a few steps behind, “So… who wants to start rehearsal with a zombie warm-up?”

You groaned, but even in the tension, you could feel a small spark of laughter bubble up.

The group moved deeper into the studio, footsteps muted against the scuffed wooden floor. The mirrors along the walls reflected every jittery movement, multiplying your fears back at you. Dust floated in the sunbeams, but there was something else too- tiny particles that clung to the air like they were waiting to choke you.

The silence pressed down in layers, thick and unnatural. Not a single note of the usual morning traffic reached you; even the city outside seemed paused, holding its breath. Somewhere, far off, a metal sign rattled against its chain in the wind, but the sound carried with unnatural clarity, echoing across the high ceilings.

Daniela stopped mid-step, head tilting as though she could sense the space better than her eyes could tell her. “Did… anyone else hear that?”

“What?” you whispered, straining to catch it.

A soft tap… tap… tap… came from the corner near the mirrored wall, barely audible at first. Then another, and another- too measured, too deliberate. It wasn’t the wind, and definitely not just dance equipment settling.

Manon stiffened behind you.

Lara’s hand found yours instinctively, gripping tightly. “It’s just the wind, right? Right?”

“Stay close,” Sophia’s voice was calm, controlled, but her knuckles whitened around the strap of her bag. “And keep quiet. Watch the shadows, not the reflections. Keep moving.”

You did- and immediately wished you hadn’t. A tall pile of stacked mats near the back of the room shifted slightly, toppling with a soft crash that made everyone jump. The noise sounded louder than it should, as if the studio itself was amplifying it, echoing it back in uneven waves.

You could feel the panic rising, thick in your chest, but you swallowed it down, forcing your feet forward.

Every sound was amplified now: the creak of the floor under your weight, the faint scraping of what might have been a chair, the subtle hum of the fluorescent lights above. It felt as if the shadows themselves were stretching toward you, curling around your ankles, waiting.

Daniela’s hand brushed yours again, a silent anchor. “Almost there,” she murmured. Her eyes never left the corners of the studio, scanning, calculating.

Then, just as you reached the middle of the room, the soft tap… tap… tap… returned, this time from the ceiling above.

All of you froze.

Manon swallowed audibly, and her nervous grin vanished. “Uh… maybe rehearsal can start tomorrow?”

Sophia didn’t answer, just shifted, ready to move the group in a tighter formation. But the studio, familiar and safe for so long, now felt like a trap. Every shadow seemed alive, every reflection in the mirrors a potential threat.

And somewhere behind the stacked mats, you were certain something was watching.

You froze mid-step, every instinct screaming that something wasn’t right. The soft echoing tap had stopped, but now there was a low, guttural moan- not far, just beyond the toppled mats at the back of the room.

Daniela’s fingers brushed yours again, tighter this time. “Stay close,” she whispered, eyes scanning the shadows.

A pile of mats teetered, then collapsed with a deafening crash. The mats hit the floor with a deafening crash, sending clouds of dust into the air. You coughed, hands over your mouth, but the haze cleared just enough for you to see him.

Male. Motionless at first, then a twitch- a jerky, unnatural movement that made your stomach turn. His skin was pale, sickly, stretched over sharp cheekbones, with dark, sunken circles under eyes that darted wildly. His mouth hung slack, lips cracked and stained. Every step he took was uneven, dragging one foot like it barely obeyed him.

Next to him, half-buried under the toppled mats, lay a body- limp, twisted. A dark smear ran across the floor, stark against the faded wood. Its hand twitched once, then went still again.

Your breath caught. Something in their posture, their clothes, even the tilt of their heads- so familiar. Familiar enough to make your stomach knot with disbelief.

“Y/N…” Manon’s voice wavered, whispering, trembling. “Do… do you see what I see?”

You could barely nod, frozen, every instinct screaming to run. “Yeah… they… they look… familiar. Too familiar.”

Daniela’s hand tightened on your arm. Her eyes widened, pupils blown, lips parting in a sharp, strangled gasp.

The paler male’s head twitched unnaturally, jerking toward you, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes- glassy, voided, but… recognisable.

Manon staggered back a step, gagging. Lara pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to hold in a scream.

Daniela’s voice cracked, low and terrified. “Oh God…”

The second body shifted slightly under the mats, a faint gurgling sound escaping a bloodied mouth. The floor beneath you seemed to vibrate with the wet scrape of fingernails against wood as the first figure lurched closer.

The studio’s familiar walls now felt like a trap. Mirrors reflected five terrified girls, but nothing in them was safe. Every shadow stretched and twisted, reaching toward you as if the air itself was trying to pull you in.

Your heart hammered so loud it was almost deafening. You wanted to scream, run, throw yourself at the door- but something about those figures rooted you in place. Painfully familiar faces, now twisted, broken, wrong, watching, waiting.

And then, the unmistakable rasp of breath- not theirs, but something else beneath the surface- made it clear: they were no longer the people you knew.

The male figure lurched closer, jerky movements that made the floorboards groan under his weight. The half-buried body twitched, a wet gurgle escaping its cracked lips. Your stomach flipped, bile rising, and you could feel the panic ripple through the group like electricity.

“Run!” Daniela snapped, voice sharp, breaking the momentary paralysis.

Manon shoved Lara toward the far side of the studio, knocking over a small stack of chairs. “Move! Move, move, move!”

You barely had time to react. Heart hammering, adrenaline surging, you darted toward the mirrored wall, only to catch a glimpse of your own terrified reflection- and the reflections of the two figures behind you, distorted, grotesque, relentless.

Sophia grabbed your arm, yanking you sideways as the male figure lurched again, dragging a foot with a wet, scraping sound. “Don’t get cornered! Spread out, but stay in sight of each other!”

Lara tripped over a stray mat, shrieking. You lunged to catch her just as a shadow flickered in the corner-another twitch from the half-buried body. Manon squealed and shoved a chair between herself and the figures, but it barely slowed them.

Daniela’s voice cut through the chaos. “Y/N! Left side! Now!”

You pivoted, nearly colliding with a stack of mats, and your foot caught something soft and sticky. The smell hit you- coppery, metallic, unmistakably blood.

The male figure’s head snapped toward you, eyes glossy, mouth gaping, and a low, wet moan vibrated through the studio. Every hair on your arms stood on end.

Manon yelped and scrambled over a fallen chair, knocking it into the other figure, sending it sliding slightly- but it didn’t stop. It barely reacted, like it didn’t even notice anything other than the 5 of you.

Sophia barked again, urgently: “Back to the car! Stay together! Move!”

You bolted, feet slipping over blood-slicked patches of floor, hearts pounding so loudly it felt like the studio itself was thrumming. The figures shambled after you, slow but relentless, their movements jerky, unnatural, horrifyingly familiar.

Every step you took echoed like a warning. Every shadow seemed alive. And as you scrambled toward the door, one thing was terrifyingly clear: they were no longer the people you knew.

Manon’s sneaker caught the edge of a frayed mat, and her balance snapped in an instant. She pitched forward, arms flailing wildly, trying to grab anything-floor, wall, even the air- her fingers scraping across the dusty wood. She screamed, the sound cutting through the tense silence like a knife. Her knees hit first, skidding over splintered boards, leaving faint scratches in the floor. Then her torso slammed down, sending a cloud of dust into the sunbeams streaming through the blinds. A loose chair tipped over beside her, clattering across the floor, echoing in the high-ceilinged studio.

Her hair whipped across her face, blinding her momentarily, and she struggled to push herself up, but her hand slipped on the slick spot where a smear of something dark had seeped into the wood. Her fingers scraped uselessly, nails clicking against the floor as she tried to regain purchase.

“Manon!” you shouted, heart lurching. You skidded to a stop, hands reaching out to catch her before she went fully down, crouching beside her as she gasped and flailed against the blood on the ground- seeping into her palms.

“I- I can’t-!” she panted, panic sharp in her voice, eyes wide as she looked up at you. “Y/N, just go! Run!”

“Okay girl, clearly you’ve been watching too many movies-”

Her eyes were wide, clearly panicked. “Just run!”

“I’m not leaving you!” you hissed, straining against the weight of her flailing limbs as you tried to lift her.

A wet, dragging thump echoed across the floor-closer, faster. You barely had time to glance up.

The male figure lunged. Its arm swung with horrifying slowness, but the force was enough to knock you off balance. You hit the floor hard, chest smacking against the wood, dust and grit filling your mouth.

Manon screamed, scrambling backward. “Y/N!”

The figure’s hollow, glassy eyes locked on you. Its jaw gaped unnaturally, a wet, rasping moan spilling from cracked lips. The smell of decay hit you full-force, making your stomach turn.

Your hands scrambled across the floor, searching for anything to push off, anything to grab- but the mats, chairs, and scattered debris and blood made it slippery, unstable. Every instinct screamed to get up, to run, to escape- but your body refused to obey fast enough.

Daniela’s voice pierced the chaos. “Y/N! Get up!”

You pushed with every ounce of strength, but the figure was on you, looming, jerky movements making the air vibrate with threat. Panic surged, and in that split second, the world narrowed to the smell of blood, the screech of splintering wood as the mats toppled, and the impossibly familiar, utterly wrong face staring down at you.

“Sohey?” You whimper softly- though it was amplified by the stillness of the room.

The word barely left your lips before the figure froze, head twitching in jerky, unnatural movements. Its glossy eyes, vacant and horrifying, seemed to focus-or at least attempt to- on you.

A low, guttural gurgle escaped its throat. The sound was almost human, almost familiar, but distorted, broken, wrong.

Manon scrambled closer, hands outstretched, but the floor was slick, and she nearly slipped again, catching herself just in time. “Y/N!” she screamed, voice cracking. “Get up! Please!”

Daniela lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking with all of her strength. “Come on! You’re not staying down there!”

You rolled onto your side, coughing, taste of grit and iron on your tongue, fumbling to push yourself upright. The figure lurched again, dragging one foot, each movement jerky and uneven, but relentless.

The half-buried body beneath the mats twitched again, making a wet, gurgling noise that froze your blood. You swallowed hard, forcing your mind to focus.

The male figure lurched forward again, jerky and slow, and something inside you screamed: this was not the Sohey you knew. Not the man who had laughed at your failed pirouettes, who had cheered during rehearsals. This was… something else.

And yet, every horrifying step, every rasping breath, was unmistakably him.

Daniela’s hand tightened around your wrist. “We need to get out. Now.”

The studio, once a safe place, had become a nightmare, walls closing in, shadows stretching, and two figures- painfully familiar, impossibly wrong- blocking your way.

Your legs felt like lead, heart hammering so fast it hurt. The door was right there- just a few frantic steps and you could be out- but your body refused to obey. The recognition, the horror, the absolute wrongness of what you were seeing, pinned you in place.

“Y/N! Come on!” Daniela shouted, grabbing your arm and shaking you desparately. “Move! You can’t stay here!”

You tried. Really tried. But it was like the studio had glued you to the floor. Your hands scrabbled against the wood, your chest heaving, and for a terrifying moment you thought you were going to stay there, trapped.

Manon, after barely a heartbeat, circled back from where she’d flinched behind a toppled chair. She grabbed your other arm with a strength that surprised you. “No, hell no, you’re not staying here!” she snapped.

With a coordinated tug from both sides, your feet finally found purchase, and adrenaline snapped through you like fire. You pushed off, stumbling forward, and all three of you- Manon, Daniela, and you- bolted.

The male figure lurched after you, jerky, slow, but horrifyingly determined, letting out a wet rasping moan that echoed against the walls.

You crashed into Sophia and Lara, who were already waiting by the door, faces pale but determined. “Go! Go! Go!” Sophia shouted.

All five of you slammed through the doorway in a chaotic jumble of limbs, stumbling onto the studio landing. The door swung shut behind you, and Lara and Sophia yanked it tight just as a sickening thud rattled against the other side.

You pressed your back to the door, gasping, trying to draw in breaths that felt too short, too shallow. The sound of scraping, dragging footsteps continued for a heartbeat, then… silence.

Manon’s hands trembled as she gripped your shoulders. “Holy- holy shit. You- we- got out. We actually… got out.”

Daniela sank to the floor, knees drawn to her chest, whispering over and over, “Oh God… oh God… no…”

You leaned against her, legs still shaky, mind racing. The denial, the ridiculous jokes you’d been making seconds ago… evaporated entirely. The weight of it pressed down on you. This wasn’t rehearsal. This wasn’t a prank. This was real.

And outside, the world had already collapsed.

Sophia’s knees hit the floor first, and she didn’t get up. Her hands trembled, pressed to her face as muffled sobs broke through her usually controlled composure. The sight of Grant and Sohey- their choreographers, twisted into something unrecognisable- had shattered her.

For a moment, nobody moved. The air was thick with the weight of what had just happened, and the adrenaline that had carried you out of the studio was beginning to ebb, leaving raw terror in its wake.

Then Manon shifted, finally swallowing her own panic. She crouched down beside Sophia, gripping her shoulder firmly. “Hey, hey, breathe. It’s okay to freak out, but crying on the floor isn’t gonna solve anything. We need a plan.”

Lara, surprisingly steady, crouched across from Sophia, her hand on the youngest’s arm. “Manon’s right. We can’t just sit here. Let’s… let’s head back to the house. Call our families. Check the news. Anything to figure out what the hell is happening.”

Daniela’s eyes flicked to you, still shaken, lips pressed tight. She nodded slightly, trusting their judgment, and let you all rise.

Manon gave a small, nervous grin. “I’ll admit it- this is way too early for apocalypse panic. But seriously, we move now, or we risk seeing more… stuff.”

Lara nodded, then glanced at Daniela. “I’ll drive, Dani.”

“…Promise not to crash?”

A soft smile blossomed on Lara’s face. “Promise.”

She swung into the driver’s seat, hands tight on the steering wheel, knuckles white but steady. The Mustang roared to life beneath her, a small comfort of familiarity amid the chaos.

Daniela slid into the passenger seat, still pale, staring blankly at the cracked dashboard. Her hands gripped her knees as if holding herself together. You squeezed in beside her, reached over, and lightly touched her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

Manon leaned back in the small rear seat, stretching her arms out over the seatbacks. “For now.” Her usual humor was shaky, a thin veil over the terror.

You shot her a look, half exasperated, half grateful. “Not funny.”

Megan, in the back next to Yoonchae, hugged her backpack to her chest. Yoonchae’s hands were folded neatly on her lap, eyes scanning the streets outside the cracked windows, expression serious but silent. Both of them had no idea what had gone down in the studio, and for now, you all agreed- better it stayed that way.

Lara eased the car onto the street, tires crunching over debris. Broken storefronts, shattered windows, and overturned trash bins blurred past. The city looked alive with chaos even in its stillness, the silence punctuated by distant, uneven sounds: metal scraping, glass breaking, a low groan carried on the wind. Bodies on bodies on bodies. Piles of them.

Manon whispered, half to herself, half to the group, “I think we just officially hit day one.”

You exhaled, fingers gripping the edge of your seat. “Yeah… and it’s only getting worse.”

Daniela finally let out a shaky breath, voice barely audible. “I… I can’t believe it… they…”

Lara reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Shh. Not yet. We’ll get home first. Then we figure it out.”

The Mustang rattled along the broken streets, carrying five girls through a city that was already dying, the weight of what they’d just seen settling in like a cold stone in your stomach.

And outside, the apocalypse waited, patient, relentless, and hungry.

The car rattled up the familiar street, every crack in the asphalt a reminder of how quickly the world had fallen apart. Broken streetlights leaned at odd angles, glass glittered like frost in the fading sun, and the low hum of distant chaos seeped into the silence.

Finally, the familiar silhouette of your house came into view. The large automatic gates loomed ahead, a promise of safety- at least for the moment. Lara slowed the car, hands trembling slightly on the wheel, and reached over to punch in the code on the key fob. The gates whirred open smoothly, almost too serene compared to the chaos outside.

Manon let out a long, shaky breath, sinking back into her seat. “Finally… a safe-ish spot.”

You all piled out, moving quickly across the driveway. The familiar hum of the security cameras and the soft whirring of the gates offered an odd reassurance. The world outside might be collapsing, but here, for the moment, you had walls, cameras, locks, and a sense of control.

Daniela stayed close, still pale and shaking, eyes flicking to the front door. You could feel the tension radiating from her like heat. “We’re okay,” you murmured, trying to anchor her- and yourself- in the familiar sights: the polished driveway, the sleek automatic gates, the cameras swiveling smoothly overhead.

Sophia, already inside, had begun checking the monitors, scanning the perimeter. “Everything seems quiet…” she muttered, voice still shaky. Her hands lingered over the keypad, lingering on the locks, almost like she couldn’t trust anything outside the gates.

Manon leaned against the car, letting the adrenaline fade just slightly. “Okay… first things first. Phones. News. Families. We figure out what’s happening out there before we do anything stupid.”

You nodded, glancing at Daniela. “You good to just sit for a sec? You need to breathe before we move on?”

Daniela managed a small nod, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

Lara led Megan and Yoonchae inside first, the two moving quickly but purposefully- eyes wide as they took in the quiet of the house. The automatic doors slid shut behind them, the soft click of the locks a small comfort.

You and Daniela followed, moving quickly to double-check every entry point, pressing buttons, flipping locks, and making sure no window was left unsecured. The familiar hum of the security system felt reassuring, but it did little to calm the raw tension that clung to your skin.

Inside, Sophia was hunched over the small desk by the living room window, fingers flying across her phone. Her brow was furrowed, teeth clenched. “No signal. All of it- sown. I can’t get through to anyone. Not my parents, not my brothers, not anyone,” she cried out, voice tight with frustration and fear.

Manon let out a long, aggravated groan, pacing the short length of the room. “Of course. Of course everything goes down the second the apocalypse decides to drop by.”

Yoonchae, still clutching her backpack, walked over to the television. “TV… maybe news?” she suggested quietly, her accent soft, hesitant. She flicked through channels, landing finally on the local news station. The screen was grainy, distorted, but the images were enough: streets empty, reports of chaos, sirens in the distance, and brief flashes of panicked citizens fleeing- nothing that could comfort you.

You sank onto the couch next to Daniela, who still looked pale and shaky. “We’ll figure this out,” you murmured, though your voice sounded hollow even to yourself. “Step by step.”

Sophia ran a hand over her face, exhaling sharply. “Step by step… yeah. First step- see what’s happening out there. Second- try to contact our families. Third…” She paused, her gaze flicking to the window where the city outside was a jagged silhouette of ruined streets and broken lights. “…Survive.”

Manon flopped onto the couch beside you with a heavy sigh, glancing at the flickering news feed. “Yeah, step three sounds fun already.”

Daniela’s fingers trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest. “I can’t… I can’t believe it’s them,” she whispered, voice breaking.

You reached out, brushing a hand along her arm. “I know. But right now, we focus on here, okay? The house, the gates, each other. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

Yoonchae quietly adjusted the volume on the TV, eyes fixed on the grainy images outside. The quiet thrum of the apocalypse had slipped inside the walls of your home, persistent, patient, and waiting.

And for the first time, it really hit you: there was no going back to normal. Not ever.

An hour later, the house had settled into a tense, uneasy rhythm. The initial adrenaline had faded, leaving exhaustion, jittery nerves, and a quiet hum of fear in its place. The girls had moved from frantic pacing to sitting scattered around the living room, phones in hand, TV flickering in the background with static-laced news reports.

Sophia still hunched over her phone, tapping desperately at the screen. “Signal’s barely there… I can get snippets, maybe a text to family, but nothing reliable,” she muttered, voice tight.

Daniela sat curled up on the loveseat, staring at the flickering news feed, fingers wrapped around her knees. Her breathing had slowed slightly, but the haunted look in her eyes hadn’t left.

Lara leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping water, jaw tight. “We need to plan. Even if it’s just… basic survival. Food, water, escape routes, safe rooms.”

You sat on the floor, back pressed against the couch, watching them all carefully. “Yeah… no point panicking endlessly. We know the house is good for now, but we need options if it doesn’t stay that way.”

Yoonchae finally spoke, voice calm and measured. “We should also monitor outside. Cameras, streets. We need to know where… they are.” Her eyes flicked to the security monitor, scanning every angle.

Manon let out a long sigh, glancing around the room at everyone. “Fine. Plan, check, survive. Easy enough, right?”

A brittle laugh escaped you, a mixture of nerves and relief. “Yeah… easy enough. Totally normal first day of the apocalypse.”

Outside, the city was still broken and silent, but the distant echoes of destruction hinted that things were far from settled. Inside, the house- your temporary sanctuary- was alive with quiet tension, the first tentative steps toward understanding a world that had already changed forever.

Sophia moved deliberately through the living room, hands on her hips, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. “We need a plan for tonight,” she said, voice calm but firm, cutting through the thick tension that had settled over the house. “Security is priority number one- doors, windows, cameras, motion sensors. Nothing is optional.”

Manon flopped onto the couch, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, yeah, gates locked, cameras checked. Can we breathe for two seconds?”

Megan shot her a sharp look. “Manon, please. Focus. We’re not out of danger yet.”

Sophia ignored the back-and-forth, pacing slowly. “We also need to think about sleeping arrangements. One person on watch at all times, minimal noise, paired rooms for safety. Tonight, we stick together in pairs.”

You all exchanged glances. The idea of pairing up immediately made the danger feel more real. Manon nodded in agreement. . “Fine by me. And I volunteer to sleep alone. Odd number and whatnot.”

“Which means…” Sophia continued, scanning everyone carefully, “…Yoonchae with me, Megan with Lara, and…” Her gaze landed on you and Daniela. “…you two together.”

Daniela stiffened slightly, and you gently reached for her hand. “Come on, Dani. Let’s head upstairs.”

She let you guide her, fingers curling around yours, a small anchor in the storm of fear and adrenaline. “Thanks,” she murmured quietly, voice tight.

Once inside her room, you closed the door softly behind you. “Hey… it’s okay. We’re doing this to keep everyone safe. Tonight, it’s just us. Stick together, stay alert. That’s all we need to think about right now.”

Daniela sank onto the bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I… I just… I can’t stop seeing them,” she whispered. “Grant… Sohey…”

You sat beside her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know. Me neither. But we’re here, we’re alive, and we have a plan. That’s our anchor. Tonight, that’s all that matters.”

You stayed there for a long beat, letting the quiet stretch between you. The distant hum of the city-sirens, a low groan of metal, maybe a vehicle scraping over rubble- was muted behind the walls, but it pressed against the house anyway. Daniela’s shoulders shook slightly as she tried to hold herself together.

“I keep thinking about the way they moved,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “It was… wrong. So wrong. And I… I can’t unsee it.”

Your hand tightened gently around hers. “I know. I think we all know. But right now, we’re… safe- we still have walls, locks, and each other. We take it moment by moment.”

She nodded slowly, head resting against your shoulder. “I… I don’t feel safe anywhere,” she admitted, voice trembling. “Not out there, not even-” she pauses, taking in a deep breath as if forcing herself to calm down- before those haunted hazel eyes lock onto yours once again, “with you, maybe I can…”

You let her trail off, giving her the space to lean on you without words. “That’s all we need. Tonight, just this- us. You and me. We’ll stay alert, we’ll check the locks, cameras, everything. But for now… just breathe.”

She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a moment. You could feel the tension seep out in small increments, her grip on your hand relaxing just slightly.

The silence wasn’t peaceful- it was charged, thick with everything outside, everything unseen- but inside, it was enough. Enough to gather strength, to cling to a tiny anchor in a world that had gone completely unhinged.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered softly, “we’ll figure out the rest. But tonight… we survive. That’s it.”

Daniela let out a long, shaky breath, finally leaning fully against you. “Okay,” she murmured. “Tonight.”

And for the first time in hours, the small, quiet room felt like a sanctuary, if only for a little while.

Back downstairs, Sophia moved between the monitors and doors, checking locks and cameras like a soldier who had just been demobilised. “Windows reinforced, gates active, motion sensors online. Quiet is crucial. Any noise could draw attention.”

Manon leaned against the wall, sighing faintly. “Well, someone has to brave the night alone. I volunteer as tribute.”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “If you fall asleep on watch, Manon, I swear-”

“Bitch,” Manon interrupted with a weak scoff. “I’m serious. I’ll stay up. You all get sleep. We survive together.”

Sophia’s gaze hardened. “Rotation schedule: someone awake, someone resting. Phones close, lights minimal, everything silent.” She paused, eyes flicking to the security monitors. “We stick to this plan. One small mistake, and it could get us all.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” Megan murmured, “We’re surrounded by gates, and locks, and bricks- It’s not like we’re in the gulag or something-“

Lara and Manon both snort at that. Yoonchae just looks confused “what’s a…?”

Sophia shot Yoonchae a tired glance, her lips twitching in a faint, grim smile. “Never mind. Megan’s just trying to lighten the mood. Focus, everyone. Gates and locks aren’t foolproof. Out there… it’s unpredictable.”

Manon flopped onto the couch with a dramatic groan. “Fine, fine. Gulag or apocalypse, same difference. I’ll stay alert. Someone better bring me snacks, though- this guard shift sounds long.”

Lara rolled her eyes, but a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, and if you start snoring through it, I’ll personally shove you into the hallway.”

Megan let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I just mean… we’ve got each other. We’ve survived worse rehearsals than this.”

Lara let out an exasperated groan.

Manon snorted, propping her chin on her hand. “Oh, come on. A little sentiment won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.”

Lara groaned, resting her forehead in her palm. “Seriously, can we just get through tonight without everyone turning into a motivational speaker?”

Sophia’s gaze sharpened, “Every second we waste joking, the world outside gets a little closer to crashing through these gates.”

Megan’s eyes flitted to the monitors, calm but alert. “Then we do what we always do. Stick together. Watch each other. Survive.”

Manon raised an eyebrow, smirking. “See? Not corny at all. That’s practically a pep talk.”

Lara snorted. “Fine, fine. But if any of us start singing inspirational songs in the middle of the night, I’m leaving the room.”

Sophia shook her head, muttering something under her breath before leading Yoonchae up to her room. Outside, the city waited, patient and relentless, while inside, the small group braced themselves for the first long night of uncertainty.

Together.

#katseye #daniela avanzini #sophia laforteza #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj #megan skiendiel #meret manon #jeong yoonchae #zombie #zombie apocalypse #zombie apocalypse au #wlw post

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bluepandastarfish · 1 day ago

Text

It ended with a batch of sugar cookies

Warnings: angst but mostly comfort, tears briefly, burnt cookies, mention of Lucien and 'lain getting frisky, apologising.

A/N: sorry this took me a while :( i hope you enjoy reading though! my requests are still open if anyone has any ideas for more parts or drabbles! :)

Well, it didnt end. An ending implied nothing afterwards, which was far from the truth. The sugar cookie was the beginning of an apology and a reilization.

Elain was worried for you, more so recently as you seemed so distant from everyone even in your more social settings. Lucien had kept her busy for quite a few days after he finally returned from his fathers court, something important he had to rush away to help with. His desperation for her kept them both occupied, and she felt silly thinking that anyone else would have the time to look out for you- or the firmness to engage with you in the way you needed.

It wasn't that Mor or Nesta couldn't be firm, but Mor had a soft spot that made her crumble when you glared once and Nesta had a tendency to be so mean you would just leave the room. So Elain had found a comfortable balance when speaking to you, understanding but not to the point she would give up at one glare or plea to leave you alone she knew you needed someone to talk to you about this.

She wished she understood, really, but Elain never struggled with her feminine side. She was gentle and kind and was always told of her beauty even when her family was impoverished. Her life with her ex-fiance would've lended even more to that side, and that was another part she felt herself grieve when the cauldron turned her.

So perhaps she did understand in some small way. Whereas Mor weaponized that femininity (not that it was something to be ashamed of) and Nesta did generally whatever she felt like but always seemed- presented herself as comfortable in her body.

But Elain would do her best, as she always tried to do.

Because if no one could understand you, you would be stuck hiding yourself away.

So she visited Azriel a week after that party, with time in between for the infamy of Lucien's desperation. He greeted her softly, as he always seemed to do with her and barley anyone else but the babe. Another reason she felt the need to help you, guilt.

‘She wants softness from you’ she thought. But telling him those words aloud was a harder task. She was certain she was right, noticed the changes and shifts in your personality like you were trying things out. And she hadn't seen you glow or be so meek about something before, when they all spoke about that cake you made.

The lashing Cassian got when he and Nesta returned home was apparently quite entertaining.

And if Cassian got a comeuppance, Azriel deserved one too.

“What did you say to her at dinner last week?” she asked. The garden around them was the pride of her soul right now, and it gave her courage for this… uncomfortable conversation.

He tilted his head. “Hm… just how kind I thought you were for letting her take credit for that desert.”

Ignorance, not hate. But the two can feel so easily misconstrued.

“I didn't make the Victoria sponge.”

…

“What?”

He sounded genuinely perplexed. It hadn't even crossed his mind that she hadn't had some involvement, and it made her jaw clench and her lips turn downward.

“She made it on her own, ive been experimenting with autumn recipes recently. If i was going to make something i would've made their peasant cakes.” very interesting recipe, involved quite a few ingredients being imported.

And while Elains mind had taken a little bit of a wonder, Azriel's was almost silent with confusion. It felt like every thought had fled his mind as they were shocked away. “How did she even… i didn't know she could bake.”

His partner, and he didn't know she could bake. Well maybe it was something small to everyone else, but he knew everything about her. He knew her family, her life before, her dreams, her nightmares, her most intimate moments.

He thought she’d grown more stiff recently. And not just in public, in their bed too.

But you weren't the type to bake… or were you?

He had seen them hadn't he?

The cuts on your fingers from a sewing needle. You never had delicate injury's like that, normally massive scathing things carved into you from fights and battles. So he hadn't noticed the small ones- or he had and he thought nothing of them.

Ignorance.

“How didn't i notice?”

“The same way Cassian and Rhysand didn't. I imagine you’ve all known her for so long, and none of you are female to understand that kind of personality struggle.”

He had known her for a very long time.

You were hardened and sharp edged, you were uncomfortable in gowns and jewellery. You hated offensive smelling perfume and shook in silence… What, fear? Every time you smelt the same one your mother wore.

You didn’t bake, or sew.

Until you did.

And he hadn't noticed, hadn't cared enough to notice, the switch.

You were finding something in a way you'd never felt comfortable enough to before, and instead of being there for you one joined Cassian in their teasing. Their little fighter- and you hated Cassian's nickname for you (not that you'd ever admit how demeaning ‘little’ made you feel)- had gone soft.

It wasn't a bad thing was it? Not really. And you didn't do it to appeal to the other girls, although you loved the prize around that dinner table. You did it for yourself.

And he didn't notice.

“I have to go”

Elain stayed there, unsure if he'd had the correct revelation or not. She hoped he had because watching you close off again would be horrible.

Sugar cookies. Sugar… cookies.

Cookies with sugar, but Azriel was sure cookies already had sugar in them? Or maybe he was wrong- no he couldn't be, even cookies without chocolate chips were sweet.

He felt like an idiot, and not just because he was struggling to understand the difference between caster sugar and granulated sugar. This would be his way of trying to apologise. From experience you were stubborn, and awkward with dealing with other people's emotions- outside of your relationship.

Making sugar cookies would hopefully be a good step toward gaining forgiveness… he hoped anyway.

What a pair you two made, neither quite knowing how to deal with yourselves or others. But you always tried to make room to be kind or careful with each other, it's why you worked.

You would understand and you would both talk and it would work.

And by the time they were baked a few were burnt at the edges, others raw still in the middle. But there were about three edible ones and three was better than nothing.

He brought the cookies upstairs on a small plate, knowing you'd already be in the bath after your sparring with Cassian or the Valkyries.

The bathroom door was open, a candle lit to cover the smell of your filth until you managed to get yourself clean. And you sat with your back to the doorway and the water up to your shoulders.

From this angle he could see all manner of scars littered on your skin, but it was something familiar and had become as a part of you as your facial features, they didn't warrant a second glance. Azriel knocked on the open door and you turned your head over your shoulder, smiling softly.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed the plate in his hand. “Whats that?”

He shuffled further into the room, feeling a little awkward. “I made these for you.”

Azriel pulled a stool to the side of the bath and held the plate down to you so you could see the cookies. “I've come to a realisation… and ive been an idiot to you.”

“No, Azriel, you haven't-”

He gave you a stern look and you decided to let him talk. “Just because i couldn't understand or didn't expect you to enjoy something like this. It doesn't mean i should've been so ignorant to you and your feelings.” he set the plate in his lap.

And in his eyes there was a sincerity that wasn't necessarily unfamiliar, but was enough to bring a tear to tease its way over your eyelid. “I knew your history, I knew your insecurities and I still acted horribly. I only hope I can find a way to make it up to you. I know there are only three cookies here but the rest were burnt and raw at the same time, which was very strange and I'm choosing to blame the oven.” He was adorable like this, talking to fill the silence between his vulnerability. “It made me realise how hard making that cake must've been for you, so I was wondering if we could try again. Maybe you could teach me and-”

You pulled him down by his collar, landing a soft kiss on his cheek. You weren't feeling up to kissing him outright, part of you was still curled up in a corner of your mind wanting to disagree with everything he said. Not to mention you were still dirty, but his attitude warranted affection and you felt like being close to him for a moment (admittedly to also distract yourself from crying more).

“I probably couldn't replicate it, but ill ask Elain what she thinks we should try”

What you ended up with, that evening since you were both too impatient to wait for Elain's help, was another batch of sugar cookies. And this time, they were perfect, oven be damned.

dividers by: @whor3ing

Taglist: @iangelofmusic @dustbuniesworld @tele86 @booksbypisces @saltedcoffeescotch @imobsessedwithtaylorswift

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar #lilac posts

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karikitdemonrp · 1 day ago

Text

Kari sniffled softly, listening to Inuyasha talk but she wasn't sure what to say. It took her a moment of thinking to figure it out. "But... I don't want you to get hurt cuz of me..." She chirped. "I don't care that I died at the end of my nightmare... I care that I saw you all die first." Kari rubbed her eyes with her arm and hiccupped. "I know I'm not alone anymore and I don't wanna be alone again, ever." The child looked up at Inuyasha, seeing his confident smirk and feeling his firm hand on his back helped her relax just a bit.

"I'm just... I dunno..." The child rubbed her eyes a bit. "All of this stuff about me not being human... About being this abomi--" Kari froze for a moment, trying to think of a word to say other than abomination. "Being this... Weird mix of demon and deity that's never existed before and never should have... That fight with that tree that nearly got us all killed because of my barrier staying up. Seeing you all struggling like that... Hurt more than scratching my skin off... And that hurt a lot." The child shivered.

"I know we're gonna fight more demons in the future, I know it's gonna be apart of my life now, at least it feels like it... But not being control of my abilities like that caused a lot of problems... If it weren't for Koga we'd probably all be dead and it..." The child looked down. "And It would've been my fault." Kari rubbed some newly forming tears from her eyes, moving to get comfortable then looking at Koga. Seeing the medicine placed near him so he could take it when he woke up and seeing the wolf shivering form. It hurt her, even though the two technically jusr met she still cared. He had a whole pack to go back to.

"...You keep saying it's not my fault... But it still feels like it is." Kari moved to lay her head down in Inuyasha's lap just a bit. "I... I'm sorry..." Kari shivered a bit, taking a few breaths to steady herself before continuing. "I'm so sorry... This really feels like it's my fault..." The child yawned. "an-nd I didn't mean it, I really tried to turn off my barrier." Kari yawned again, curling up while fighting to stay awake. "So Kagome could... do something." Her voice grew distant as she continued to talk. "But I was... So scared... It wouldn't turn off..." Kari sniffled softly, finally closing her eyes and nuzzling into Inuyasha gently to get comfortable while the grip on her plushies relaxed with the rest of her body, one hand now weakly clinging to Inuyasha's clothing, whatever she could grab. "I'm sorry... Inuyasha..." The child muttered softly while passing out, her face twisted in a slight worry as she slept.

The rest of the night was restless for her, constantly trembling or whining in her sleep, albeit weakly. Those nightmares haunting her the whole night so she didn't sleep very well.

Inuyasha let out a quiet sigh, ears flicking as Kari pressed into his side. His clawed hand settled on her back, not rough or awkward for once, just steady and firm.

“Tch… nightmares’ll do that,” he muttered, his voice low so as not to wake Koga, though there was no bite in it. “They feel real enough to make ya think you’re still stuck in ‘em. But listen—” he tilted his head down so Kari would look at him if she dared, “—we’re not goin’ anywhere. Not me, not Kagome. Not even wolf-boy, as much as I’d rather not admit it.”

He glanced at Koga’s shivering form, his brow tightening, but his attention quickly came back to Kari when she whimpered. “You ain’t alone. Not now, not ever again. Got it?”

His thumb brushed just slightly against her shoulder, almost absentmindedly. “Scary or not, it was just a dream. You’re safe. And if anything does try to hurt ya…” his fangs showed in a quick, confident smirk, “…they’ll have to get through me first. That ain’t happenin’.”

Inuyasha shifted so he was more comfortable, letting Kari curl tighter against him. “So quit thinkin’ it’s your fault, pup. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Just… breathe. I’ll keep watch with you ‘til you fall asleep.”

#rp #Pure Tiny (Kari)#toranoya #//you can time skip to the next day if you want #//or if you have ideas lemme know ^^

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 days ago

Note

Pls could you do one where r has really bad anxiety about her weight (or anything really) and gets close/has a panic attack and George helps her and is just super fluffy? Just loads and loads of physical affection xx

i've felt an intense whack of writers block over the last few weeks so i'm slowly trying to get back into the whole writing thing! i'm so sorry for the wait <33 ** TRIGGER WARNING; SADNESS AND MENTIONS OF WEIGHT AND POOR MENTAL HEALTH **

she could feel the walls of the flat closing in around her.

her heart was thumping in her chest, the sound of the loud laughter and raucous chatter from the living room seemed to get even more distant, and her hands seemed to shake as she finished off curling the ends of her hair. and she couldn't keep her eyes from glazing over as she stood and looked at herself in the mirror of george's bathroom. taking in every inch of her appearance; the appearance she'd spent hours getting perfect.

the flick of the eyeliner at the corners of her eyes, the ombre effect of the eyeshadow look that she'd seen online, the outline of her lips and the shade of her lipstick that matched the accessories she'd paired with her outfit that she'd been so excited to put on, knowing she was due a good night out with her closest friends. something she had been looking forward to through a week full of ups and downs.

except, now?

in that moment?

staring at herself in the mirror, looking more in depth at the flaws she wanted to cover up and the bumps of her body that seemed to be a lot more accentuated than normal, she wanted the ground the swallow her up and spit her back out at dawn so she could miss the entire evening. she hated the way her upper arms seemed to look worse in her eyes, hated how she found her outfit to look even less flattering on her around her middle when she stared at the bumps being made more prominent by the material, hated how she thought she was going to stand-out like a sore-thumb amongst sabina and liv and becky...

her thought process is broken when a knock at the door echoes around the room.

"yn? we're all waiting on you," george's voice comes from the other side and the squeak of his door handle being pushed down makes her instincts reach for the bathroom door, slamming it shut before he could take one look at her and it startles him as he enters the room, "bloody hell, everything alright?"

she "mm-hmm"s in response; she refuses to let him see her in a vulnerable state. the way her mental health was playing havoc with her, giving itself a good go in ruining her evening, sending bad thought after bad thought through her mind, and she didn't want to make his night a bad one.

"that didn't sound very convincing," he informs her, knocking his knuckles against the bathroom door, "have i interrupted a bad time?"

"no," she mumbles, "just... i'm just-"

she cuts herself off with a heavy sigh and sits herself down on the closed lid of the toilet, feeling a single tear dribble down her cheek, because she knew it was stupid to feel like this when she'd felt fine the last few times they'd gone out. heck, she'd felt confident all day.

her breath hitches in her throat when she looks up and sees his head poke around the door of the bathroom, hair perfectly styled and he smelt so good that she could smell his scent from the other end of the room, and she took one look at his face and felt the tears begin to fill up her eyes, a frown appearing on his face.

"hey, hey. what's the matter?"

"it's so stupid," she cries out and she hates how she's let her feelings come to bay, "george, i just feel so... gross."

"gross?"

she nods and he scoffs out heavily, shaking his head as he crouches down in front of her, bare knees colliding with the tiles and the hem of his shorts riding up his thighs, hands instantly holding onto hers as he refused to take his eyes off of her face.

"i just feel like an outcast right now," she admits, "you guys are all so gorgeous and handsome and the girls are looking so pretty tonight and i'm just... me."

"i don't get it," george says softly, "you look unreal."

she shakes her head and her eyebrows furrow on her browline. "i wear all this," she points at her outfit with her hands before dropping them to her lap, "and i don't feel good. i look disgusting. i'm fat, i'm ugly, i have a lot more to me than the others and i stick-out in such a bad way. it's obvious i'm the least attractive person in this group."

george is quick to shake his head.

"no, don't ever think like that," he sounds strict and he hated the tone of his voice but he could feel his heart break at the sight before him and he knows it's simply the emotion coming out, "i don't want you to ever think like this again, okay? i can guarantee you that not a single person will think what you're thinking when you step foot out into that living room."

"but i do, george. i think that and if i can't tell myself i'm not then my brain just tells me that everyone else finds me that."

his hands come up to cup her cheeks and her wipes away the tears with his thumbs, "i don't know how to every respond when you feel like this, when you tell me i could find better, but all i can do is reassure you that i want you. i love you. i love you at your worst, your best, when you have bad times and when you feel like the most confident woman in the world. i think you're the most beautiful, most sweetest, most gorgeous-est and the most prettiest girl in the whole world."

she sniffles softly and lets out a gentle giggle, "that's not even a word, you donut."

"in my vocabulary, and in my dictionary for every word i could use for you, it is a word."

"you are the cheesiest guy in the world," she tells him wetly, "i might need a bit longer to get ready."

"i'll tell everyone else to go, give us another hour, we'll take it slow and we'll meet them at the pub, yeah? we'll let them go and get the seats and the first round," he stands to his feet and wiggles his fingers in her direction, holding her hands tightly when she places them in his hold. bringing her close to his front, he wraps his arms around her and places a kiss to the top of her head, "i don't want you to ever forget how i feel about you, okay? i love you and all your flaws. they make you you and i'm thankful for every single one of them."

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littlebittyhollowbugs · 1 year ago

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Time to think about how alone the pale king was when he died. He had lost everything. His kingdom yes, but even his closest relationships.

His trusted friends, who became dreamers, gave up their lives and all for a hopeless cause. His wife was driven away by her guilt and her grief. His child who he had learned to love, he sacrificed for nothing.

Almost every character that we know of who had a personal relationship with PK had either been sacrificed or had left him.

And of course all of it was his own doing. (At least largely his own doing.)

Still he sat completely alone in that throne room when he died there.

#Hornet is the one thing he still had and from her perspective #he was the last bit of family and hope that she had left and he abandoned her and left her alone in his crumbling kingdom #And she deserved better. I'd like to believe he at least attempted to help her before he left.#Encouraged her to leave with weavers maybe.#Either way I understand why his life ended the way that it did.#After everything.#Its just so tragic #All of it #AAAAAAAAAAAA #(Also interesting to me that there are absolutely no in game implications of what the relationship between hornet and PK was like.#and I have my own interpretation of course.#Which is that there wasn't much of a relationship because otherwise surely we would have any implication at all about what it was like.#we get some hints about her and WL relationship which seems very distant #I'd imagine with PK and with everything going on at the time it may have been more so.)#Anyway all very interesting and heartbreaking to think about #:)#hollow knight #the pale king #hk thk #hk the pure vessel #hk white lady #hk dreamers #Hollow knight dreamers #Hollow knight White Lady #Hollow knight thk #hollow knight pale king #HK thoughts

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cent-scratchnsniff · 11 months ago

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it was just going to be a few warmup doodles but then she infected the rest of the page like the ever eternal and spreading spores. hod!!! hod. hod :)

#lobotomy corporation #lobcorp #hod #hod lobcorp #lobotomy corp spoilers #I GUESS i almost forgot i drew her box form #lobcorp spoilers #and michelle actually. ..#both very tiny. itty bitty. microscopic #other sephirah there too as normal. i cant have her alone. and Angelina as well on the top patting her #i have a hard time fully capturing her for some reason. in my mind. maybe its because is the disconnected period!!! mentally #she genuinely wishes to care and be kind yet theres a dissonance with what she does..? or how it ends up being taken or what she does to en #up bringing those actions into reality. she can be forceful? wanting to have employees attend therapy sessions and meetings for suppression #tactics. which i think is also something the safety team is incharge of iirc. so that means shes doing way more that what she needs to on #her job as a sephirah. just for the sake of employees #she really does care as shes one of the only to Directly attempt to change their circumstances and quality of life and health #sure chesed doesnt punish employees when they dont do their work assigned or stress them out with work #but he doesnt actively push to attempt to make changes to aid employees besides the research perks which is to the manager #yesod IS right next to her and does also genuinely care but when it comes to employees hes distant at best when it comes to them and the #way he tries to protect them is by enforcing rules but he doesnt really create or attempt to help them like hod does #yesod is sort of a passive? way of doing it. yes he doesn make a push to enforce said rules but he doesnt make new ones. just follows what #is already there in place. hod tries to make new ways and not just for the safety of people like how yesod's has them physically fine and #not letting them over a certain threshold of mental corruption but she tries to have a program to Directly Address such a thing #its born out of care but the genuine worry of being a good person and her naivety ends up having it do more harm than good #sure there may be some employees that actually like and find it useful but so many are just accepting to their fate of Dying to where #her care seems pointless. shes a sephirah and to them a literal metal box why would they go ahead and feel bad for what an 'ai' is feeling #as she is interrupting their free time in the company #which is rude. and shit. iirc the counseling is compulsory but people go because shes a sephirah and their superior. the thought was there #but again it comes off wrong and ends up not working because shes their superior in the end #EEK!!! yeah... hod. the hod. there is WAY more but i can't fit it all here and i already typed enough

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dennisboobs · 2 months ago

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one day i'll post my fic and you can finally witness this monster of a playlist that fuels my insanity

#but for now. i write notes about electrical service box grounding (suffering)#im literally motivated to get Ahead with my courseload so i can write + draw im going insane not being able to do anything creatively #it was a mistake signing on for 5 self-driven courses in a semester btw. just in case anyone was wondering.#if youre considering it that's the devil speaking #or your business partner who wants you to be able to work sooner i suppose #anyway the dennis playlist i have posted in the past is a decoy this is the real one #i refuse to have overlap and i prioritize this one lol #i have a super secret charden playlist that i can't have overlap with too but thats not important.#i dont think anybody will see That one....... its for me........#north dakota fic playlist is crazy because i'm like holy shit this song is perfect what the hell (wrote the fic)#my brain and music have a symbiotic relationship in that i am inspired by songs and then the direction the fic takes also opens up new musi #considering a minor rewrite bc i like the picture painted by a song if i match up with lyrics #also lowkey highkey how vicky works as well i iron out details while sorting thru music #it usually helps to inspire me and broaden my ambitions a little more than i would normally go for #i think north dakota fic has spun into this big web rather than this very focused thesis Because i've got songs about multiple relationship #ie. thinking about mandy and dennis' arrangement. boundaries and feelings (not romantic or sexual. something else.)#it's precisely because of their history that dennis is distant and gives her more space than is necessary in every possible way #it's not out of respect for her or this odd sort of truce they have for their kid's sake #it's like. if i let you any closer i'm going to run. but god do i wish i could. when you Already know so much. it'd be so easy.#dennis enjoys domesticity. so he can't enjoy anything about being here. he's punishing himself and he's here for his son Only #sleeping on the couch or in a hotel instead of in the bedroom because he could get comfortable sleeping with mandy #they cant afford a bigger apartment and she's fine with it. he knows this. but Fuck No.#dennis' weakness... sleeping With someone. (no i will Never stop thinking about maureen spooning him in the 6x02 script. fucking lorddd)#he craves casual intimacy with her in the same way he craves it with mac. and he could. but she knows him. (he could Let her know him.)#and she sees this in him and Offers freely. offers him help. offers the bare minimum. and he can't have that. it's compassion. it's pity.#it's her seeing someone who is desperate to break open the shell that encases him but knowing it'd do horrible things if she did it for him #it's not even a matter of pride. it's about relinquishing control. he's So out of his element and has no hope of finding a foothold here #this is a charden fic btw. this is a charden fic where mandy is his partner. in this bizarre queerplatonic lavender marriage ass way #she's literally just his friend. dennis doesn't have any of those.#i thoroughly enjoy like. the contrast of her to mac and charlie and also the simple fact that dennis is insane

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adriartts · 9 months ago

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more side character designs now to the tune of the Kil sisters

#character design #art #Ciara Kil #Naomi Kil #you know what's fucked up? never heard the name ciara until a few months ago. it's pronounced with a hard c. like keera. that's fucked up #anyway her name isn't pronounced like that cause i said so. it's a soft c and you pronounce the i. see-are-ah #hard-c ciara doesn't fit her. soft-c ciara does. it's fantasy i do what i want. i makea the rules #anyway. needless to say im in love with them both #naomi especially im sorryyy she's so intricate. she's got so much little shit going on I heart her crazy style #shes very good at Doing Things Right but it is an active choice to do so. unlike Ciara who is just really naturally personable and likeable #and so even when she's a bit unkempt or pushy. she gets away with a lot because she's so damn easy to like #wheras naomi is A Choice. she Is Right not because she's likeable but because she puts effort into it #shes obsessed with her image (who else does that sound like? almost like they're products of the same environment or something)#shes Neat and Put Together and very formal. very traditional #and not just because of that but not helped by it she's very distant. just enough to be noticeable but not enough to alienate her #because since she's so curated elsewhere. everyone she's distant to assume that they're just not privy to whatever else is going on #they assume that SOMEONE is. and that someone just isnt them because they arent good enough. naomi has a way of putting herself in a place #where she is an unattainable goal. and that's all in her pursuit of Doing Things Right #i could talk about her for hours also. fucking love naomi #naomi and ciara and julian are all fun because they're all. So Different. but similar enough that if you look closely youre like...#yeah. yeah those three all came from the same place and you can TELL #even ciara who is generally more easygoing than the others. you can still Tell sometimes #case in point: she's stubborn as hell and not afraid to pick a fight to get what she wants #love her.#OC art #ocs

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confines · 10 months ago

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starting to cut ties with my cousins. :)) :((

#our shared streaming services are running out so they won't owe me money month to month anymore #not going off with them again unless there's very special circumstances #not going over to hang out with the only one of them i legit like because she just stood me up after i said i don't like going over there #so i only went to hang out with her and then she wasn't even there 😀🔫#can't be too mad yet because it's technically possible she's been murdered #but like. she hasn't been. she fell asleep i bet.#so if she wants to hang out with me she is coming over to my house. period. i'm no longer going over there if i can help it.#got a big trip with them scheduled for tomorrow but no one's set a time and i'm the only who's brought it up in the past two weeks #so they're for sure flaking out there #and i'm not going to the holidays anymore bc i can't tolerate the smells #so. we are about to grow quite distant.#they currently owe me $30 for cat dewormer :///#and i guess i'm not getting it until next week because i'm not going to be around my cousin's bf she almost broke up with this week #because i'm one more rude little comment away from snapping on him #:((((#adam yaps

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yuyuyukiii · 15 days ago

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Two Charms, One Promise ⛐

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Long before the podiums, the titles, and the fame, he was just a boy in a treehouse. She was the girl who promised to stay. She didn’t break that promise. Someone else did it for her.

Content: Childhood heartbreak, missing letters, mistaken goodbyes, unresolved feelings, and one very symbolic bracelet.

Author’s Note 🏎️:

This story is purely fictional and not based on real events. Some timelines, career paths, and personal details have been adjusted or reimagined to fit the narrative. It’s all for the sake of the story, so please don’t take anything here as factual. Just vibes, emotions, and a lot of imagination. Thank you for reading. I hope it makes you feel something 🫶🏻

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The day Y/N moved in, Max Verstappen was already sitting in the treehouse, legs dangling off the edge, half-listening to the wind and trying to ignore the distant sound of car doors slamming. It was unusually noisy for their sleepy neighborhood, which usually had more dogs than people outside at any given hour.

He was up there because Jos had yelled again that morning, something about focus, about wasting time. So Max went where he always went when things got too loud, up in the treehouse, tucked between thick branches and scratched wood that smelled like old pine and dried glue.

Down below, a moving truck pulled up, rattling and coughing, followed by a car that barely rolled to a stop before someone burst out of the backseat. A girl.

She was dragging a suitcase with one hand and waving frantically at someone inside the house with the other. Max was just about to look away when she turned suddenly and looked straight up. Straight at him.

Then she pointed.

A few minutes later, she was standing at the base of the treehouse ladder, squinting up at him through the leaves.

“Hi!” she called, like they’d met before.

Max didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know her. He didn’t talk to new people if he could help it.

“You live here, right?” she asked again.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” she said. “We just moved in.”

He just stared.

“Can I come up?”

That caught him off guard. No one ever asked to come up. Not even the neighbor kids who sometimes wandered too close.

He shrugged. “If you want.”

And that was how it started.

She climbed up with the confidence of someone who had never fallen out of a tree in her life, then plopped down next to him and looked around like she belonged there. Like it was already hers too.

They played cards using a half-broken deck he kept in a tin box. She asked him questions, what grade he was in, how fast his kart was, what he wanted to be when he grew up. She answered all of her own questions without waiting for him to respond.

When she finally left, she said, “I’ll come back tomorrow. You better not lose.”

He didn’t say anything, but when she was gone, he smiled to himself.

And she did come back. Every day after that.

The treehouse became theirs. It wasn’t official, but it didn’t need to be. They carved their initials into the floorboard. They stored candy in a metal lunchbox. They taped leaves and wrappers and even a movie ticket stub to the wall. They shared stories. Secrets. Fears.

Sometimes Max would sit in silence and she would do all the talking, but somehow, she always knew when to stop and just let him exist beside her.

He liked that.

One rainy afternoon, sprawled out on their backs staring at the wooden ceiling, she turned to him and said, “I’m going to be your engineer one day.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Your engineer. I’ll be the one building your car. Telling you what to fix. Then we’ll win everything. You and me.”

Max laughed. Not because it was silly, but because it made something flutter in his chest. “You’re serious?”

“Obviously.”

“What if you work for someone else?”

“No way. I’m loyal,” she said, proudly. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

She held up her pinky. “Promise.”

He curled his pinky around hers. It felt important, like something more than just a joke. Something real.

That night, she gave him a bracelet. It had a single charm on it, her initial. He wore it every day after that. The next day, he added one for himself too.

He didn’t have a name for how he felt about her. He just knew he always wanted to see her first after a win. He wanted her to see how fast he was. He wanted her to stay.

He didn’t know that wanting someone to stay didn’t mean they would.

A few years later, everything fell apart.

Y/N’s parents told her the news over dinner. Her dad was calm, practical. Her mom looked sorry before the words even left her mouth.

“We’re moving to Japan.”

Y/N stared at her plate. “What?”

Her dad sighed. “They need me there. The company’s expanding. It’s a big opportunity.”

Her mom tried to soften the blow. “We leave this weekend. It’s fast, I know, but we didn’t want to worry you unless it was certain.”

Y/N didn’t cry. She just asked, “Can I say goodbye to Max?”

Her parents exchanged a look, then nodded.

They gave her a small box the next morning.

It was a phone.

“So you two can keep in touch,” her mom said gently. “You’ve been friends a long time.”

Y/N packed a smaller box later that night. It had a new charm for Max’s bracelet, a tiny silver steering wheel, and a long letter. She told him everything. She told him she was sorry. She wrote her number, her new address, everything. She told him she’d be back one day, and that he better not forget her.

The morning of their flight, she begged her dad to stop at Max’s house. She was bouncing on her toes, hands fidgeting and heart pounding, as she approached the door. The house looked the same as always, warm and familiar in the sun, but something about it felt heavier today. Her footsteps slowed. After a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked.

A few seconds passed. Then the door creaked open, not to reveal Max, but his father.

Jos Verstappen’s expression immediately soured.

“You again?” he said flatly. “You’re always looking for Max. No wonder he’s been distracted in his races.”

Y/N lowered her head, gripping the small wrapped box tighter. Her voice came out small, but steady.

“I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to Max… just for a while…” Her voice trailed off, then she mumbled under her breath, “For the last time.”

Jos squinted. “What did you say?”

She looked up at him, eyes earnest. “We’re moving. Today, actually. I just wanted to say goodbye, give him this, and… I left my contact info inside, so we can still keep in touch.”

Jos paused. For a brief second, his eyes lit up, but he quickly masked it with a sigh and a feigned frown.

“I’m sorry for being harsh on your friendship, kid,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I only ever wanted the best for Max.”

Y/N nodded, hesitating. “Is he here? Can I see him?”

“He’s out,” Jos said quickly. “Training.”

Her face fell.

“But maybe I can give it to him for you?” he added, extending his hand with a soft smile.

Y/N stared at him, uncertain. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Of course, kid.”

Something about it felt off, but she pushed it down. With a quiet “thank you,” she hugged him gently, placing the gift in his hand.

“Please make sure he gets it. It’s really important.”

Jos nodded. “Safe travels, Y/N. I’ll give it to him right away.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Verstappen.”

She turned and walked away, holding in tears the entire time. Jos watched her until she turned the corner, then let out a quiet chuckle.

“Finally. No more distractions,” he muttered, stepping back inside. He headed straight to his office, opened a drawer, and carelessly tossed in the gift and envelope, unopened, unread. The letter inside, carefully written, held her contact information, a hand-drawn sketch of their favorite memory, and a heartfelt message she stayed up all night to finish. All of it, hidden.

—

Meanwhile, Y/N returned to the car, where her parents were already waiting inside. Her mother glanced up as she approached.

“Did you get to say goodbye to Max, dear?”

She looked down and shook her head. “No. He wasn’t around. But I gave Mr. Verstappen my gift and letter that had everything inside.”

Her parents exchanged a look.

“You’re sure, honey?” her father asked gently. “Why not give it to someone else? Maybe his mom, or a neighbor?”

“It’s okay, Mommy. I had a backup plan.” Y/N smiled proudly. “I left the same letter and gift in our treehouse. Max always goes there after naps.”

Her father gave a relieved laugh and ruffled her hair. “That’s our girl. Smart as ever.”

She beamed.

None of them knew that as soon as Y/N left, Jos made his way to the treehouse. Right after hiding the box she had asked him to give Max, he took everything else, every drawing, every note, every small thing that might remind Max of her, and hid alongside the box.

—

Max stirred awake after his nap, blinking at the time. The sun was already dipping lower in the sky. He sat up, stretching, then smiled. It was that time again. Y/N always came over after lunch, and they’d spend the afternoon at their treehouse, playing games, eating ice cream, making plans that reached far into the future.

He jumped out of bed, got dressed, and rushed over to the L/N residence. But as soon as he arrived, something felt… wrong.

There were no cars in the driveway.

No sound from inside.

No curtains drawn.

He knocked once. Then twice. He called out.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

His knocking turned louder. “Mrs. L/N? Mr. L/N? Hello?”

Still nothing.

A tightness started forming in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. Maybe something happened. Maybe they were just asleep. He began pounding on the door now, calling out Y/N’s name over and over.

Then a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey, kid. Could you calm down a bit?”

Max turned. A neighbor stood on the other side of the fence, frowning.

“Sorry, sir,” Max said quickly. “Do you know where the L/N family is? Are they at the mall or something?”

The man blinked. “The L/Ns? Oh… they left.”

Max’s stomach dropped. “Left?”

“Yeah. Left the country, I heard. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

Max stared at him, stunned. “No… no. That’s not possible.”

“Pretty sure they don’t plan on coming back,” the man added casually before going back inside.

Max stood frozen. For several seconds, everything around him went quiet. Then he took off running.

“No, no, no,” he whispered between breaths, feet pounding against the pavement. “This isn’t real, this isn’t happening.”

He didn’t even notice the tears until he reached the treehouse. He climbed up, desperate. His hands shook as he pulled open the wooden hatch.

Erased. Everything about her had been erased.

The drawings they made together. The little gifts. Their shared journals. Even the photo they kept of the day they built the treehouse, all gone. It looked just like it did before she came into his life, like how it was when Max was the only one using it.

Like she had never been there at all.

Like she wanted him to forget her.

His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, tears pouring freely now. His heart felt like it was splitting open. He curled up and sobbed, flashes of memory overwhelming him.

The first time they met in this treehouse.

How she always stood between him and a group of bullies, tiny but fierce, shouting that they were cowards for picking on someone just because he didn’t have a “nice dad.”

The way she cheered for him after every race, even the bad ones.

The way she always knew what to say to make things better.

The time he was sick and afraid to sleep, scared he would wake up and she’d be gone. She stayed beside him all night, pinky-promising she would never leave him.

“Forever,” she had said.

He pulled his bracelet from his pocket. It was silver and a little scratched, with only two charms so far, one with her initials, and one with his.

They were supposed to fill it together.

Max stared at it, eyes red and swollen. He clenched it tightly in his fist and whispered into the empty air.

“She lied to me.”

Then louder.

“You lied to me.”

His voice cracked.

What he didn’t know was that Jos had lied. Didn’t know the letters existed. Didn’t know Y/N had tried.

All he knew was the pain.

And all he had left was the bracelet.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Y/N sat by the window, fiddling with the little charm on her bracelet. Her fingers kept tracing the edge of the tiny silver star until her mom gently nudged her arm.

“Are you nervous?” her mother asked.

Y/N glanced outside, where clouds floated past the plane wing. “Yeah. I didn’t grow up in Japan. I don’t really know anyone.”

Her mom gave her a soft smile. “Honey, even if you didn’t grow up there, you were born there. And besides,” she added, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, “Yuki will be there.”

Y/N turned her head. “Yuki?”

“Yes. He was your playmate until you two were around five. I was told he’s very excited to see you again.”

Y/N blinked. Her mind scrambled to find a face to match the name. She couldn’t remember much. Just blurry memories of swings, warm afternoons, and someone always running ahead of her.

The thought settled her a little. Not completely, but enough.

Maybe she was nervous because of Max.

What if he was mad at her?

But then again, even if he was, it probably wouldn’t last long. They had phones now. They could talk.

Things would be okay. They had to be.

—

By the time they landed and arrived at their new home in Japan, it was already late afternoon. The street was lined with people, neighbors, family friends, and curious kids with wide eyes. Everyone seemed excited. The warmth in their greetings made Y/N pause. It felt different here. In Belgium, people kept to themselves. Here, it was like the whole street had come to welcome her home.

She stepped out of the car just as someone threw their arms around her.

“Yatta! Omae ga modotte kita! Ore no saisho no tomodachi da!!” (Yay! You're back! My first friend!) the voice shouted with joy.

Y/N blinked in surprise, momentarily frozen. Then she gently returned the hug and pulled back with a polite but confused smile.

“Konnichiwa… tomodachi yo.?” she said cautiously. “Gomen ne, chotto oboete nai no…” (Hello… friend? Sorry, I’m having a hard time remembering…)

The boy laughed, clearly not offended at all. “Is me, Yuki! You… you no remember? We race shopping cart! Down driveway! You crash into mailbox. I laugh so hard, my mama scold me.”

Her eyes widened. “No way. That was you? Oh my god, I thought you were just a dream!”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes yes! You cry, but only little. Then we eat snack. You bring chocolate.”

She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh my god. I thought I dreamed that.”

Yuki pointed at himself proudly. “Not dream. Real! I real! You come back. We bestest friend again, okay?”

They laughed, slipping into conversation like no time had passed. When Yuki stumbled over his next sentence, Y/N gently switched to Japanese. She didn’t want him to struggle. His eyes lit up with relief, and from then on, they spoke easily in their shared language.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be the beeeestest of friends,” he said confidently, bumping her shoulder.

Y/N laughed. “We already are.”

That day, one friendship was rekindled.

And somewhere else, without her even knowing, another was quietly breaking.

—

Time passed quickly after Y/N moved back to Japan.

She and Yuki became inseparable, just like when they were little. Every morning, he would wait outside her house with two juice boxes and a huge smile, waving at her like it had been years since they last saw each other. They did everything together. They walked to school, snuck snacks into class, and raced paper boats in the gutters after a storm. If there was a school activity, a family trip, or even just a lazy afternoon, you could count on them being side by side.

It was like they grew up as twins, bonded not by blood but by something even stronger: timing, trust, and the track. They both loved racing. Yuki would talk endlessly about engines and tires, while Y/N would try to predict strategies like a seasoned engineer. Eventually, she stopped just listening and started helping. They made a perfect team. If Yuki had a karting competition, Y/N would be there by the side, clipboard in hand, shouting feedback louder than anyone else. And if Y/N had something on her mind, Yuki would sense it before she even said a word.

Just like during that first week Y/N was back in Japan, before everything had settled, she couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

(Flashback)

She sat on her bed, bracelet clutched tightly in her palm. It had been days, but her phone stayed silent. Max hadn’t contacted her. Not even once.

Yuki noticed her quiet mood during lunch one afternoon and nudged her with a cookie.

“You look sad. Is school too hard?” he asked, mouth full.

Y/N shook her head.

“Then what?” he pressed. “Tell me. I fix it.”

She looked down at her tray. “I just thought someone would’ve messaged me by now.”

“Who?”

“…My best friend. From Belgium. Max.”

Yuki frowned. “No message? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“A bad friend,” Yuki declared with a pout. “Very bad. He made you cry. You forget him. I be your best friend now. Bestest in the whole wide world.”

Y/N smiled a little at that, leaning her shoulder on his. “Okay. But just so you know… Max is really important to me.”

“I am important now,” Yuki said with a proud nod.

(End)

And he really did try. Over time, Y/N stopped checking her phone so much. She still thought of Max often, especially during races or when the wind reminded her of Belgium, but she let herself grow close to Yuki without guilt. Together, they grew up cheering each other on, yelling advice across karting tracks and making silly bets with ice cream as the prize.

But in Belgium, Max Verstappen’s world had become silent again.

Without Y/N, everything felt dull. He’d always known the sport was hard, but now it felt cold. No one was there to throw their arms around him after a bad race. No one sat next to him on the swing set when the other kids said he was weird. No one brought him mango juice or cheered even when he came in last. He stopped hearing kind words altogether.

Even the treehouse had changed.

The place that once held laughter and secrets now sat in silence. The candy wrappers were gone. The tin lunchbox was empty. The walls, once decorated with stickers and scribbled messages, had faded in the sun. The tree itself started to look different. The leaves grew thinner. The branches drooped. It hadn’t been watered or cared for in years, and it showed. What was once their shared paradise had become Max’s hiding spot when Jos was mad again. It didn’t comfort him the way it used to.

Years passed.

Max’s career began to take off. He was preparing to leave Belgium to chase the big leagues. Teams. Tracks. Pressure. Fame. It was everything he had worked for, but something about it didn’t feel right.

He loaded the last box into the back of the car. Jos slammed the trunk and said, “Ready?”

Max paused. “Wait. I forgot something.”

He jogged back through the overgrown yard and climbed up the creaky steps of the treehouse one last time. Dust danced in the light. The wood groaned under his weight.

He sat down in the same corner he used to sit in as a kid and looked around. His eyes landed on one of the old drawings he had carved into the wall with a pocket knife.

A stickman version of himself stood on a podium, arms raised. Above it, the word champion was scrawled in crooked letters.

Right below it was another tiny stick figure. This one had long hair and was clapping with little stars around her head.

Max reached out and traced the line he had written beneath it.

Max wins the world championship. Y/N is his engineer.

He closed his eyes.

“I really thought we’d do this together,” he whispered.

Then he climbed back down the ladder, looked up at the treehouse, and said softly, “This is it.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Yuki was the first to leave.

It felt strange, the morning he rolled his suitcase to the airport check-in. His usual loud energy was quieter, replaced by a shaky smile and nervous fingers tapping against his hoodie sleeve. Y/N stood beside him, blinking away the weight pressing behind her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he said quickly, voice cracking despite the smile. “You cry, I cry.”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed, poking his arm. “It’s just the weather.”

“Inside the airport?” he teased.

They stood in silence for a second longer before she hugged him tightly. Neither wanted to let go.

“When we see each other again,” Yuki said, stepping back, “we’ll be big names. You, engineer girl genius. Me, fastest driver.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

“But no goodbye,” he added, wagging a finger. “Only see you soon.”

“See you soon, Yuki.”

With one last wave, he disappeared through the crowd.

—

And then… life moved forward.

Y/N buried herself in her studies. She got into one of the best engineering universities in Tokyo. Her days blurred together: late-night lectures, stacks of notes, greasy cafeteria food, and way too much caffeine. There were moments when it felt like too much, but every time she looked at her worn-out bracelet or passed a go-kart track, she remembered why she started.

She graduated near the top of her class, surrounded by cheering classmates and flashing cameras. Not long after, she aced the licensing exams, officially earning the title she had worked so hard for.

Dream one: complete.

She’s finally an engineer. It still feels a little unreal, but it’s hers.

—

Yuki’s first year abroad wasn’t as easy.

At first, he struggled. English was hard, the food was weird, and no one seemed to get his jokes. He missed Japan. Missed the rhythm of his life back home. Missed Y/N’s easy laughter during long karting weekends.

But he worked. Hard.

Every bad qualifying session, every miscommunication with his team, every lonely hotel night, he turned it into fuel. Slowly, the results came. So did the friends. He learned how to express himself even when the words weren’t perfect. He smiled more. Fought harder.

Years later, sitting on a balcony with his helmet on the table beside him, Yuki stared at the headline on his phone:

Tsunoda Confirmed as F1’s Newest Driver.

His hands trembled. He laughed. Then he called Y/N and shouted, “WE DID IT!”

Dream two: complete.

He was in Formula 1.

—

Max, meanwhile, was clawing his way up on his own.

His F3 days were brutal. He was fast, but raw. Emotional. Other drivers whispered. Some avoided him altogether. He was “the kid with too much fire and no brakes.”

But Max didn’t care. Or at least, he told himself he didn’t.

He carried the weight of everything: the expectations, the lonely nights, the dream that once belonged to two people. There were nights when he’d sit by himself after races, staring at the sky, wondering if she’d be proud. Wondering if she remembered.

Eventually, his talent was undeniable.

F1 came calling.

And even then, it wasn’t easy. He was young. Aggressive. Often misunderstood. The media called him reckless. Teammates didn’t always trust him. Older drivers were cold. But Max kept showing up. Kept proving them wrong. Over time, respect followed.

Now, as he stood on the podium once again, the anthem playing, a crowd roaring below, Max looked down at the bracelet tucked beneath his suit cuff.

two charms still dangled from it.

Dream three: ongoing.

He had made it.

But a piece of him still felt unfinished.

Because the one person who promised to be by his side wasn’t there.

Not yet.

—

Y/N couldn’t figure out why she felt so nervous.

She’d been to races before. But this one felt… heavier.

Yuki had pleaded with her to be there for his debut. “Just this once,” he had said. “It would mean everything.” And of course, she said yes. She always did, especially when it came to him.

But the weight in her chest didn’t feel like nerves for Yuki. Not really. It felt like something else. Like someone else. Someone from back then.

Yuki never asked who Max really was. And she never offered more than a first name.

So naturally, he never really talked about Max in F1 either, because in his mind, Max was just someone from her childhood. A classmate. A neighbor. A boy from another lifetime. It never even crossed his mind that they could be the same person.

He never made the connection.

The moment they landed, Yuki was waiting at the gate, practically bouncing in place. He held a piece of paper that said “FOR MY FAVORITE ENGINEER” in giant block letters, with two messy hearts in the corners.

Y/N laughed and ran into him, nearly knocking the sign out of his hands.

“You’re actually here,” he said, hugging her like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I would be.”

He toured her around the hotel, pointing out which floors the team was on, where she could sneak snacks, and who to avoid. Then he dropped the bomb.

“I applied for you,” he said. “To F1’s development program. You got in.”

She blinked. “You did what?”

“You’re gonna be trained and mentored by real engineers, and then you can apply to any team you want. This is the start.”

“Yuki—”

“We promised, remember? I’m racing, and you’re beside me. Always.”

The next day was chaos.

It was race day.

Fans screamed from the grandstands. Teams rushed through the paddock like bees in a hive. Yuki looked impossibly small in his suit, helmet under one arm, but his grin stretched ear to ear.

Y/N stayed just outside the restricted zone, watching him get into the car. He pointed at her once before the lights changed, and then he was off.

She barely noticed the rest.

Until something, someone, brushed past her.

A driver, walking quickly. Suit zipped, helmet gripped tight. She only saw him from behind, the dark racing colors streaked with sponsor patches. She didn’t know why, but her chest suddenly felt tight. Like she should have known him. Like there was something right on the edge of her memory.

But she didn’t see his face.

She didn’t stop him.

He disappeared into the pit lane crowd, swallowed up by noise and motion.

—

Max had already finished the final checks. Helmet under his arm, mind focused, jaw clenched.

But as he made his way through the paddock, something pulled at him. He turned his head slightly, just for a second, eyes scanning the crowd beyond the barricade.

There, a girl.

He couldn’t see her face, only the back of her head, the way her hair caught in the breeze, the way she stood like she belonged but didn’t want to be seen. Her posture. Her stillness.

It wasn’t unusual.

And yet.

Something inside him paused. A flicker of memory he couldn’t name. A dream from long ago.

He stared just long enough for his engineer to call his name again. He blinked it away, shook his head, and kept walking.

Whoever she was, it didn’t matter.

Not today.

END (C.1)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

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stargazsblog · 16 days ago

Text

I CAN SEE YOU ──꒰✉️꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ clark kent x fem!reader

꣑ৎ you and clark have been secretly dating for three months. no touching, barley talking at work. so why does it feel like everyone knows?

꣑ৎ now playing - i can see you by taylor swift

tag/warnings: fluff, swearing, making out

note: KITCHEN SCENE!!!!! i know i am a little late on this but i just watched superman a week ago and oh my god i love it sm

Working with Clark is probably the most stressful thing ever. Not because he’s difficult—he’s actually the sweetest person in the office. Always kind, always helpful, always handsome.

Which makes it even worse.

Because you’re dating him. Secretly.

And if you told anyone that, no one would believe you. You two barely even look at each other during work hours. He treats you like any other coworker—polite, distant, professional. And you’ve gotten pretty good at pretending you don’t stare every time he rolls up his sleeves or adjusts his glasses.

But now? Now it’s been three months. Three months of pretending you don’t notice him when he walks past your desk with his tie slightly loosened and a coffee in each hand—only placing one on Lois’s desk.

Three months of pretending you’re not dating the guy who texts you goodnight with terrible emojis and kisses your forehead like he’s scared he’ll break you.

And somehow, it still feels like everyone knows.

Maybe it’s the way Jimmy gives you a look every time Clark walks by. Or how Lois asked—very casually—if there’s someone special in your life. Or how Clark, bless him, keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks no one’s looking.

Working with Clark Kent is exhausting.

You don’t see Clark, but you know he’s late. Again.

You’re standing by the printer near his desk, waiting for your files to finish printing. It’s the closest you’ve been to his chair all week, and it still feels too close. He’s usually already here by now—tie straight, glasses slightly fogged from the rush in. But today, his desk is empty.

Or… it was.

While you’re focused on the machine slowly spitting out paper, you don’t notice him quietly slipping in behind you. You only hear the sound of his bag hitting the floor.

“So this guy flew into Midtown and started attacking people, demanding Superman show up?” Lois says, her voice sharp and curious.

You freeze, your hand hovering over the warm stack of papers. You don’t turn around. You can’t. You already know exactly what they’re talking about. Clark had come to you right after—scuffed up, hair messy, eyes tired. He held you for a long time and whispered, “I’m okay.”

Now he’s here, in clean clothes and calm glasses, like none of it happened.

“Yeah,” Clark replies easily. “It’s all there in my article.”

You can’t help it—your lips twitch into a small smile. His voice is warm, smooth, and steady. Totally unbothered. Like he hadn’t just saved the world again.

You force your attention back to your papers, trying to ignore the twist of jealousy in your stomach. Lois is always talking to him. Laughing with him. She has no idea.

You’ve just collected the last page when you hear someone call your name.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn instinctively—and freeze.

Jimmy’s smiling at you from across the room. So is Lois. And so is Clark.

All three of them are watching you, but it’s Clark’s eyes you notice first. There’s a flicker of something behind his glasses. That soft, familiar look he gives you when no one else is around. The one that says, I see you.

You swallow hard, cheeks warming. You pray no one notices.

“Uh—yeah?” you say, pretending like your heart isn’t racing.

Jimmy grins and waves you over. “We were just talking about the Superman situation. You saw it, right?”

You nod slowly, trying not to look at Clark. “Yeah. I saw some stuff online this morning.”

“Total chaos,” Lois adds, crossing her arms. “Guy shows up out of nowhere, starts attacking people.”

Jimmy leans forward, eyes lighting up. “So what do you think of him, Y/N? Superman, I mean.”

Your brain short-circuits. You know they’re just making conversation, but suddenly it feels like the room is too bright, too quiet, like Clark’s staring straight through you.

What do you think of Superman?

You think he’s brave. You think he’s gentle. You think he makes you pancakes at 2 a.m. and wraps you in his arms like you’re the most important person in the universe.

But you can’t say any of that.

So you shrug, and hope your smile doesn’t look as nervous as it feels.

“I mean, he’s cool. I guess?” you say, casually, maybe too casually.

Clark lets out a soft chuckle behind you. Just one little laugh—but you hear it loud and clear.

“Just cool?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this.

You blink, flustered. “I mean—do you want me to stand here and praise him for what he does?” you say, half-laughing. “He’s Superman. He’s already got enough fan clubs.”

Lois smirks. “So you’re not a fan?”

“I didn’t say that!” you rush to add. “I just—he’s fine. He does good things. Very… heroic.”

You feel Clark’s eyes on you. You know he’s trying not to smile.

Jimmy grins like he’s cracked some secret code. “You’re totally hiding a crush.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No. Nope. Not at all.”

“Okay, okay,” Lois says, waving it off, “let her live. We’ve all got our opinions.”

You mutter something about needing to get back to work and shuffle away, heat blooming across your cheeks. You don’t dare look at Clark as you pass him—but he leans in just slightly as you go by and murmurs, barely audible:

“Just cool, huh?”

You don’t even look at him. But your smile gives you away.

Your hair’s a mess, your shirt’s half-unbuttoned, and your bag is slipping off your arm. You don’t even bother turning on the lights as you shut the door behind you with your foot and toss your keys somewhere near the counter.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, already reaching for the fridge.

You let out a loud scream.

“Holy shit, Clark!”

Because there he is. In your kitchen. Like it’s totally normal. Shirt sleeves rolled up, glasses off, standing barefoot in front of the stove like he hasn’t just scared ten years off your life.

He glances over his shoulder, completely calm. “Hey.”

“Babe, next time text me you’re coming,” you say, hand still pressed to your chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he turns off the stove and walks toward you, warm and soft in every movement. “I just know how stressed you’ve been lately, so I wanted to make your favorite—breakfast for dinner.”

You set your bag down and walk toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s your favorite,” you reply.

He grins, dimples and all—those dimples.

“No… last time I checked, you love breakfast for dinner,” he teases, slipping his arms around your waist.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders with a quiet laugh. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re adorable,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you, soft and slow like he has all the time in the world.

Then, without warning, he picks you up effortlessly and sets you on the kitchen counter. You squeak a little, grinning against his lips.

“I thought you were tired,” he says, voice low and amused.

“I was. Then you showed up looking like this,” you tease, tugging playfully at his rolled sleeves.

Clark lets out a hum and starts kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, like he has nowhere else to be but here with you.

“You know,” he whispers between kisses, his lips brushing just under your jaw, “I think we’re doing pretty good at hiding our relationship.”

“You think?” you breathe out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Pretty sure your friends have been looking at me weird.”

He smiles against your skin. “Let them look.”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming your waist. “They don’t know anything.”

You tilt your head back slightly, giving him more access, your voice barely a whisper. “They know something.”

Clark pulls back just enough to meet your eyes—dark, soft, and burning with something heavy. “Do you want to stop?”

Your pulse stutters. “No.”

His mouth meets yours, deeper this time, and when he lifts you off the counter and starts walking you toward the bedroom, you forget about Jimmy, Lois,—everything except him.

The newsroom hums with the usual clatter — phones ringing, typing, someone arguing near the printers. You step off the elevator, pretending like everything’s normal. Like you didn’t spend the night in Clark’s arms. Like your shirt doesn’t still smell faintly like his cologne.

Clark walks in behind you, a minute later. Casual. Professional. His tie’s slightly crooked.

You brush past each other in the hallway. Barely. Not even enough for anyone to notice—

Except Jimmy.

Jimmy, sitting at his desk with a half-eaten bagel, tracks the interaction like he’s watching a spy movie. His eyes squint. He leans over toward Lois, lowering his voice like he’s about to break the biggest story of the year.

“How long have they been dating?” he asks.

Lois doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even glance away from her computer.

“Three months.”

Jimmy chokes on his bite. “Wait, what?! You knew?!”

Lois finally looks up, unimpressed. “Jimmy. Please. Clark literally smiles now. He’s writing down his so-called funny jokes and he’s wearing cologne. You think he does that for himself?”

Jimmy blinks, stunned. “I thought he was just… glowing.”

Lois rolls her eyes and goes back to typing. “He’s in love, not radioactive.”

#clark kent #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent x reader #clark kent x reader fluff #clark kent x yn #clark kent x you #superman #superman x reader #clark kent fluff #david!clark kent #david!clark kent x reader #david corenswet #david corenswet x reader #secret relationships #superman fluff #fluff

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prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue · 3 months ago

Text

VALERIE

pt.2 of pull me in

summary : due to bruce distancing himself from reader and seeing other women - the rest of thr batfamily has to watch her willow away.

Damian carefully sets out delicate China plates onto the oak table - he always ensures that he places the golden forks and its corresponding smaller spoons next to them - just like how Name taught him . It all seems like a forgone , a distant memory , but when Damian had first moved into the manor - he met Name always cooking.

She was a woman who always preferred home cooked food over bought food - taught him that having the privilege to have food and to enjoy it was a luxury many cannot afford in this time - so the fact that this family can - they should cherish it.

He was, of course, weirded, out by it - of course, he grew up having maids cook for him - he never had to think of his next meal but because he respected Name wishes . His respect was even further upheld because Name was an amazing cook - everything she's ever made him practically melted in his tongue , the taste etched into the depths of his mind.

He remembers in his earlier days of living here - he always hovered over her in the kitchen , he found it peaceful and a way to escape to constant arguing and fighting he had with the rest of his other siblings. He always gravitated to her , he didn't understand why - he already had a mother, Talia , but for some reason, he still felt the need to be around her.

Maybe it was because Name was a quiet woman and a woman who never bothered to fix him or opted to berating him about something - instead, she opted to just live in his space , to just quietly carry about herself. That doesn't mean they haven't spoken , his very first day, he remembered her asking if he had any allergies or certain food preferences.

They had other conversations, too , like the time she caught him fiddling with the washing machine when he was trying to wash his Robin suit, and she explained the workings and mechanics of using both the washer and the dryer. Or the time she caught him sneaking out, and she literally told him to use the backdoor next time.

Safe to say , Name and him bonded quietly, but that's what he loved about her - she was patient and loving - a silent type of love not one that's too overbearing or one like Bruce's were it left you guessing.

Damian sets the jug of water at the center of the table - ensuring it was perfect and neat just like Name taught him . Jason and Tim soon enough comes barreling in with takeout bags and left them on the table half hazardly.

" Tch - Jason, just because your room is a pigsty doesn't mean our dining table has to be." Damian quarreled as he immediately straightened it . " Yeah, Jay mom has a system." Tim quirks up as he helps Damian straighten it.

Jason awkwardly rubs at his head , " Sorry - never got ma's tidy genes," he apologizes . Damian rolls his eyes, but let's out a smirk . The dining door opens again to reveal Dick and Name walking in , Dick immediately pulls out a chair for Name and helps her get situated in.

" We got Chinese takeout, ma," Dick explains as he gestures towards the bags on the table. A small smile graces name's face as she gives a small nod at the boys. They immediately lit up - glad that their mom was happy with today's dinner choice.

" Yeah, we got you your steamed broccoli and beef ma " Jason says as he carefully hands her a box . Name nods as she takes the box into her hands and rests it carefully on the plate . " Jay and I got fry rice and shrimp wontons - Dick got spicy noodles with chicken, and well, we all know Damian got his sucky tofu " Tim furthers as he distributed the boxes out.

Dick practically snatches his before sitting next to Name . He opens up his box, and the smell of the spice practically engulfs the entire room, causing everyone to cough. Jason, who has opted to sit across from Name, glares at him , " Dick how spicy did you order that damn thing -" he complains.

Tim, who was sitting next to Jason, stuffed his mouth with a wonton , " $50.00 he's gonna start crying again when he eats it -" he bets. Damian takes his seat in the opposite of Name and grumbles annoyed with his siblings antics , " Grayson I swear to God if you get an upset stomach because of this on patrol I am personally going to stab you " .

Name giggles quietly - no matter how shitty life went for her - nothing could beat watching her children be happy like this. " Ya'll are being dramatic. I just got normal level this time, alright - plus I have a better spice tolerance than you all," Dick defended as he slurped his noodles.

Everyone literally rolled their eyes at that. " Dick you got the spice tolerance of an old white man," Tim muses . " Tim - you are a white old man too you shouldn't be talking either " Jason interjects.

" This argument is pointless - you all are pathetic at cuisine - only mother and I have a superb palette," Damian adds in as he carefully eats his tofu. A collective groan echoes in the dining room. " Okay - Mom has a good palette, hands down, but definitely not you, Damian." Dick argues - pointing his fork at Damian dramatically.

" Okay, first off, I am the only one here who can somewhat replicate Mother's pelau -" Damian defends . Jason , pursuing his lips cuts him off , " You burnt the bloody rice last time. What do you mean replicate ?" Jason points out. " I said somewhat, Todd, maybe Harvard should take back your English degree," Damian snares.

" When you are making pelau , rice goes in last, and then you add in your water," Name interjects before the conversation goes south and explains - her voice soft . The batboys still - its rare their mother ever talks - ever since Bruce told her voice was annoying and grating - she very rarely spoke . Safe to say , they were overjoyed . " Thank you, ma - tell them how a real cook does it !!" Jason exclaims .

" Ma, I miss your cooking - we literally have to survive off of Alfred and Dad's poor attempts," Tim practically begs. " I'm sorry, babies, you know Mama can not cook anymore like she used to, but I'm sure Alfred and your father can cook." Name apologizes , grimacing at the ' your father ' part .

The batboys too grimance at the mention of Bruce - it's no secret that they dislike him - no matter how much Name pleads and tells them to respect him and remind them that he was their father - they couldn't bring it upon themselves to respect that man . In utter rebellion, they all start calling him Bruce - even on patrol since none of them could give a shit .

Heck, that's how Selina found out . It was like any other patrol except that night , Tim and Bruce were really deep into another argument. " Bruce - I am not going to another stupid gala - especially because Ma isn't going," he argued . " Your mother doesn't control you, Tim," Bruce argued back as he continued looking over the roof - already done with the conversation.

" Yeah, well, maybe the fact that you're married to the woman should control you from being tongue deep down in some other woman, huh ?" Tim yells back before he turns away from Bruce . Selina was standing right behind him , jaw-dropped and eyes blown open in shock . Tim shoves past her before disappearing off in the night - he couldn't stand being in either of their presence .

Before anyone could say anything , the dining room's door pushes open to reveal a scowling Bruce . His neck is covered in lipstick marks and hickies , and his shirt is wrinkled. Name practically froze in her spot , arms shaking as she took him in . She could feel all of her insecurities bubble with her - practically drowning her in scalding water .

Jason scoffs - already pissed at absolute audacity while Tim just stares - his face void of any emotion. Dick's eyes got dull, really quick when his eyes drifted between Name and Bruce and well Damian - his face was red - down to the tips of his ears was red , he was practically seething in his seat - ready to pounce .

" I thought I said to make dinner Name ?" Bruce questions as he takes a seat to the top of the table. The air is tense and cold, and no one at the table makes a move to acknowledge the sheer stupidity of his demand. " And we thought being married means being loyal to your partner," Jason sassed - his glare practically cuts into Bruce's own.

" Have some decorum at the table, Jason," Bruce corrected as he stares at Name pointedly , " Again Name , why is there no dinner prepared . Are you so lazy that you have to waste my money on cheap takeout ?" He asks again. Name stayed there frozen - her lungs began to collapse on her as panic ensnares her.

" If you want dinner prepared, then prepare it yourself." Dick seethes out . Silence consumes the table once again - the air practically thickens when the dining door opens again to reveal none other than Selina , black dress equally wrinkled and her lipstick smudged.

Name stared at her and then at Bruce before standing up , her chair scraped against the floorboards, leaving a mark in its wake. " Go rot in hell " Name says , voice dripped in calm rage , eyes boring into Bruce challenging him to say something .

Name then looked to Selina , face void of feeling as she did a once over , " Last season of Channel's couture? Pathetic , at least look good if you are going to be a homewrecker " She says casually before strutting past her as if Selina was a measly fly.

The room goes silent fast, and soon enough, everyone began dismissing themselves, leaving Bruce and Selina alone to tend to each other's bruised ego's.

thank you for reading !!

please like + share + comment

note : this is a work of fiction . This work does not represent Canon versions of Selina Kyle , Talia AL Ghul, and Bruce Wayne , please do not unnecessarily hate these characters .

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twilightofthesandwiches · 2 months ago

Text

…So we do have some implications that Kris… at the very least, does not care for Ralsei as much as they care for Susie, or as much as Ralsei cares for them. Most notably with Chapter 2’s Teas;

I think also maybe their tendency in the recent chapters to point out the differences between Ralsei and Asriel might be related to it. They don’t want to compare Ralsei to their beloved older brother.

But I wonder if that’s beginning to change. Most notably with all the scenes of Kris and Susie comforting Ralsei and encouraging him to be himself… Obviously we are the ones telling Kris to say the words, but... it seems like it was their choice to give him a hug.

Which kinda reminds me of our first indication that Kris genuinely considers Susie their friend.

Plus, like, sure we CAN force Kris to say certain things, but they can also subtly rebel against it by saying things 'weirdly'

or immediately contradicting our words with their own.

So.... not only do they don't really resist this attempt to help Ralsei, here is how they react if you try and pick one of the most flagrant "no Ralsei you and your feelings don't matter (:" options.

They are literally fighting against the Player's control to try and emotionally support Ralsei.

I wonder if this was a matter of Kris' thoughts about Ralsei actually mirroring many Players, that they also thought he was weird and shady and that his niceness was too-good-to-be-true and that he's probably manipulative and evil. And with the revelations about Ralsei and the way he thinks about himself and his reasoning for keeping secrets in Chapters 3 and 4, it's only now that Kris is starting to let their guard down around him and allows themself to like him.

Or if it's a matter of... clearly Kris' situation with the SOUL (AKA us) is a very unhappy one for them. Even if it also seems to be part of the plan Kris and Evil Phone Voice are on, it is not a pleasant experience for Kris. It might be that the thing that endeared them to Susie so much in the first place is the way that she also chafes and rebels against being 'railroaded' by the prophecy stuff all through Chapter 1 - and therefor they were always put off by Ralsei's happy-peppy lack of resistance to following anything the prophecy said....

Hell... we STILL don't know what these two talk about when the SOUL is away following Susie... if Ralsei told Kris they need to put on a happy smile and accept being a 'Cage' for an Amoral Time God, that will certainly sour their relationship.

But now Ralsei is opening up to how much this fatalism has caused him pain, and now he's starting to push back against it. And maybe now Kris can understand that Ralsei is also in the same boat as them and Susie, that they are kindred spirits.

Or maybe... that whole deal with Kris and the Evil Phone Voice seems to indicate they might've known about Dark Worlds and how they work before the story of the game properly starts, and at least that they understand them more than Susie does. Maybe Kris themself thought of Darkners the same way Ralsei thought. Maybe they were distant from Ralsei because they saw him as not 'real'. And watching Ralsei unlearn this mindset is causing Kris to reconsider the way they were thinking of Dark Worlds and Darkners.

Or... well... it could just be as simple as Kris seeing how much Ralsei matters to Susie. We have constant reminders through these two chapters of how much Susie cares for Ralsei and how much she sees them as a trio. So even if Kris just doesn't Vibe with Ralsei, thinks he's annoying or weird or creepy or whatever, Kris cares for Susie, so they know they have to care about her other very best friend.

I wonder if the reason behind the Person-Flavor-Teas being 'Rotten' past Chapter 2 is because Chapter 3 and 4 actually have a lot of subtle shifts in the characters' relationships and it would've been unpractical to keep track of them all, or simply narratively unsatisfying to spell them numericaly out like that.

#deltarune #deltarune spoilers #deltarune thoughts #deltarune analysis #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #ralsei #kris #ralsei deltarune #ralsei dr #deltarune kris #deltarune ralsei #dr kris #dr ralsei #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 spoilers #deltarune chapter three #deltarune chapter four #deltarune chapter 4

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miajooz · 2 months ago

Text

imagining Boss!Ellie getting a call in the middle of fucking her secretary! (you)

warnings ⟢ Dom!Ellie (she’s mean, surprise!), strap usage (r!receiving), degrading + praise, pussy slapping (r!receiving), exhibitionalism, swearing, power dynamics, ect.

wc ⟢ 1.8k

Your boss, Ellie, was a very attractive woman. She wore suits in a way that made men look unnatural, and ran the office like some sort of siren. Well, in actuality—she caught your heart like a siren. To say you were head over heels was an understatement. More so since she was your boss, wasn’t that just so utterly shameful?

No, you didn’t have any shame. Not anymore.

You left your shame on the polished wood of her desk the first time she fucked you on it, the floor of the break room, the bathroom—shame was scattered all over the damn office. But there was no shame in you. If there was, it probably would’ve been fucked out of you by now.

The hookups were sneaky, that’s what made it so addicting. The way she’d ask you to stay late for ‘extra help’ or the way she’d push you into the break room half an hour before break time and lock the door behind her.

Nobody in that office knew a thing. Ellie was such a distant, professional woman—she was the last person they’d expect to fuck her secretary. And you were such a polite, easygoing woman. You were professional in your own way, so helpful and so smart.

Today was no different, you were laid back on the ridiculously comfortable sofa in her office. It was the kind of luxury you didn’t feel you deserved to be on. Especially since you were making a mess of the thing.

Ellie was on top of you, black strap absolutely ruining you. She must’ve had a lot of frustration built up, because you could definitely feel it. You were trying to hold back moans, but it was impossible when she was pounding into you so aggressively. Deep, rough, fast strokes. She worked your poor pussy harder than you were anticipating.

“Fuck, you always take me so well.” she rasped, angling her hips in a way that nearly made you scream. She laughed softly, though it was half groan. “Yeah? Like that, baby?”

You couldn’t even respond, you were reduced to weak babbles and breathless moans as she fucked you like an animal. You just took it like always, swallowing the silicone deeper into your aching cunt. And you couldn’t get enough, not when it felt like her strap belonged inside of you. It felt so right being stretched by her, you were so easy for her—but who wouldn’t be?

When you gave no response, Ellie landed a harsh slap on your pussy. You choked out a pathetic cry, back arching off the sofa at such an unexpected, harsh feeling of impact on your puffy clit. It was throbbing, more so arousal than pain. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as the constant pulsing your sopping hole went through whenever she was around. It was fucking dripping.

“I asked you a question, so answer it. Does dick make you that stupid? I can’t have a dumb secretary, baby.” she slapped your cunt again, watching the way your eyes swelled with tears even though it was a softer slap. “I’m your boss. Be a good girl and listen, okay?”

You were crying at this point, moaning like a bitch and being fucked like a slut. Your mind was clouded, all you could think about was the silicone ruining your pussy in the best way. You nodded through your tears. “Y-yes! God, yes! F-feels so good, ma’am!” you whined, eyes fighting to not roll back. You knew how much she loved your eyes, she often told you that.

Ellie looked so hot above you. Her suit jacket on the floor and her tie joining it. Neither of you ever got completely naked, just in case somebody knocked. Your panties were on the floor, skirt hiked up to your waist so she could have a view of your pussy and your thighs.

“Such a filthy girl, letting your boss fuck you like this? Aren’t you ashamed?” she questioned, but she was just as guilty as you—if not more. She drank up your moans, they were so satisfying to hear because they were all for her. For her ears only. “Don’t be ashamed, sweetheart. Just keep coming to my office and having one button of your shirt undone to seduce me. So, so clever.”

In the middle of your cry, mid thrust—Ellie’s phone rang. You both gasped, eyes widening at the same time. She looked over at the caller ID, fuck. It had to have been someone important, because she picked up her phone and smirked at you.

“Baby, can you be quiet for me? Just gotta take this call, but I won’t neglect you.” she explained, not even waiting for your response before accepting the call and placing her phone up to her ear.

You gasped, immediately trying to choke back your moans. There’s no way, how the hell were you supposed to stay silent in these conditions? She didn’t slow down, not even for a moment. You clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as she continued to fuck the daylights out of you. Your cunt was pulsing almost painfully, squeezing her so tightly you were surprised she could still keep her pace.

“Oh hey, Jesse. Did you transfer those files over to me?” she asked, her voice a bit breathless. She was grinning down at you, looking at you expectantly. She thrusted particularly harsh, making you squeal a bit and your eyes shoot open. They were blown wide, looking at her with both panic and arousal. She couldn’t hide the wet sounds of your pussy sucking in her strap, which she almost laughed at. “Ignore the sounds in the back, my secretary gave me a super wet fruit.”

A super wet fruit? God, this woman was shameless.

Ellie hummed along to the male voice on the other line, “You’re a life saver, seriously. Thanks for doing that on your day off.” she said, narrowing her eyes at you when she heard your gasps and squeals. She shooed your hand away from your mouth, placing her own over it instead and pressing down.

You were panicking, unable to hold back moans anymore. She was pounding into you at a brutal pace, you didn’t understand how she wasn’t panting and huffing on the phone. You cried out loudly into her palm, but luckily it was pretty muffled.

This was such a nerve wracking, disgusting situation. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get off on it. The risk, the tension—that was what you had always been addicted to.

Ellie scoffed at the sight, but fuck, it was so hot. She could feel your tears soaking her hand, your breath in her palm. “What am I doing? I’m at the office today.” she explained, looking at you with almost false sympathy as you tried to behave for her. You both got off on the power aspect. Ellie was having a power trip—which made your cunt pulse and cry.

“Yeah, just doing some extra work. It wont fill itself.” Ellie explained, pushing down harder on your lips when she heard you whine uncontrollably. “I know, right? Needy fuckin’ work. No matter how much I do it, it just keeps coming back”

Does she think she’s being sneaky? Cheeky asshole.

You shook your head feverishly, feeling a tightening in your stomach. Fuck, couldn’t your body wait? You squeezed Ellie’s bicep to try and warn her, she slowed down so she could drag this out a little longer. God, she was such a bitch. You loved it.

“Well, I got shit to do. Thanks again for doing that favor for me.” she hummed, starting to fuck you roughly again. She hung up the phone and put it to the side, removing her palm from your lips so both hands could be grabbing your thighs to yanking you closer. She laughed at you, low and raspy as she continued listening to the way you whimpered so loudly now that there was no barrier. She had an almost sadistic smile on her face, it was so humiliating but so sexy.

Your eyes were officially glued to the back of your head, perhaps searching for a coherent thought. “Boss! F-fuck!” you cried, your moans finally being set free. You could feel your stomach tighten again, you were so, so close.

Ellie looked down at your pussy, it was fucking dripping—just how she liked it. “Yeah? Did you get off on that?” she questioned, loving the way you sucked her in and begged for more. She couldn’t get enough of you, the way you took it and kept coming back made her want to satisfy that aching neediness inside you. “I guess so, you’re soaking my damn sofa.”

You nodded feverishly, weak cries leaving you. You felt a tingling all over your body, as if your body was bracing itself for the intense orgasm you were about to have. But you knew better than to leave her questions unanswered.” “Y-yes ma’am! I really loved it!”

Ellie continued fucking you, the black silicone molding you perfectly around her. “You’re such a whore. Ah, ah!—that’s what you fucking sound like.” she mocked, arms hooking under your thighs. “I can’t afford to have such a bad secretary, promise you’ll be a good girl and stay quiet next time? Wouldn’t want us to get caught.”

Next time? Was she kidding?

You nodded again, her words pushing you over the edge. You cried out, back arching impossibly as you choked out moans and promises. “I promise, Ellie! I’ll be so good!” you managed between moans and gasps. You soaked the silicone still fucking in and out of you, the type of mess she wished she could taste on her tongue.

Ellie tutted and shook her head, helping you ride it out but slapping your pussy once again. You were so overstimulated, you whined and squirmed, eyes widened and jaw slack. “Ellie? I’m your boss, sweetheart. Try again.”

You gasped and looked at her, pupils dilated. You couldn’t stay quiet, the overstimulation was too much to handle. “Ma’am! I promise..ugh! I promise to be good, m-ma’am!” you said between cries, but you felt relief when she finally stopped thrusting.

“That’s a good girl, you’re always so good for me. No wonder you get such special treatment.” Ellie praised as she pulled out. The strap was covered with slick, a delicious ring around the base. She laughed, looking down at your fucked out face. She glanced at the clock quickly, she had a meeting in an hour. She hated work for this reason, she wanted to bend you over her desk so badly.

Ellie’s eyes snapped back down to you, hand coming down to your cheek so you’d look at her. Those sweet eyes made her groan, they were so pretty when they weren’t rolled back or squeezed shut.

“Do you want more, baby? I know you do, you’re a needy girl. You can ride me this time—we have a little under an hour.”

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andiemiaswife @mayfldss

#ellie williams #ellie smut #wlw #lesbian #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams imagine #tlou part 2 #ellie x fem reader #wlw love #ellie x you #ellie williams smut

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