#I SWEAR TO GOD I MEANT FOR THIS TO BE NO MORE THAN A PARAGRAPH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

konaanaria13 · 1 year

Text

Alcohol is Toxic as well

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of swearing cuz that's my fav thing to do.... ahm idk just like oh google translated French, Its a big one and I've been working on it for a while so I don't remember!

word count: around 8K

so its enemies to Lovers but also their toxic friends who are friends but just always fight and kind of are very nasty to each other yep yep yep!

nice.... (also rly bad grammar I think, nobody proof reads this)

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It was as if we we're just meant to like each other.

Both of our Families we're high in status so it was just natural that we had to spend a lot of time in the presence of rich people.

Wearing the right clothes and The right smiles, It was rather a surprise for my Mother when she heard the absolute disliking I took in The Leclerc boys.

Arthur and Charles the most since Arthur was just always repeating what Charles was doing and oh gods Charles was so irritating.

Enzo wasn't. But since I already Disliked two I went for the three while talking.

Sooner or Later My mother made me wear the Ferrari colours and stand in the paddock and having to watch the races so everybody knew that we we're connected of sorts.

She wanted me to marry rich and in High status so she could be happy.

Me and Charles we're different, he liked car's and I like Quiet study sessions so we simply didn't get along very well, but we had to spend a lot of time together as my mother and his mother we're basically best friends even though they we're two completely different people.

But it wasn't as if we didn't talk, we talked a lot, me and Charles the most since we we're about the same age and it was easy to talk with him, to sneak out at a gathering and get drunk on a rooftop talking about our lives as if we weren't screaming the dumbest insult at each other five seconds earlier.

It was an understandment that even though we didn't like each other we we're in the same boat both holding our heads high and smiling when the camera was in our face.

But Charles family was supportive, I loved his mother almost more than mine, but i couldn't since she wasn't my real mother.

My parents always needed me to be the perfect Daughter, I was the middle child before me came the Golden Boy who went on as a doctor and below me came the baby Boy who sailed the world and did whatever he wanted with our parents money but never got scolded for it.

I stayed. not that I wanted my parents we're cruel... or rather strict, They words stung almost harder than they're open palm even though my mother hasn't dared to lay her hands on me. at every gathering I liked having the Leclerc family there, for Charles mother to pull me into a hug, for all three of the boys to kiss both of my cheeks with a smile and for Charles to notice my exhaustion.

"You look wonderful" Charles handed me another glass of champagne.

We we're on a yacht in Monaco, a weekend before the race. The Stroll Family had organised some of the upper class people to attend it and My mother couldn't miss the opportunity to show of her new earing's, she looked beautiful as always.

"Thank you" I took a sip and we watched as Arthur and Lance talked.

The boy was talented and attractive. Just maybe I could try...

"Do you like him?" I ask Charles and he raises an eyebrow.

"As a driver I mean? Lance? He seems nice-"

"Very nice. He's naïve" Charles agrees and I roll my eyes as Charles takes out a whisk of Alcohol and pours some into my empty glass of champagne.

"How's University?" Charles asked.

"Fucking boring. I've been stuck on like five paragraphs and I have to attend this stupid Party rather than go to an actual one on my Saturday evening" I complain and he laughs.

"It does surprise me that you chose law" he says and I frown

"Why's that?" I ask annoyed.

"You just never seemed the type-" Charles started and I rolled my eyes again

"Cause I'm a woman?" This time he rolls his eyes

"No! Oh my god you always have to do this!"

"Maybe if you weren't a sexist dick-"

"I was ten! And I was simply surprised that you wanted to go karting! It wasn't about you being female!" He whispered so he didn't have to scream.

"Well I beat you anyways-" The race of luck I liked to call it.

"You could never beat me now so"

"Yes but the last time we raced I did so be quiet" The pure luck i had in that race was unbelievable.

"I am a literal formula one driver and you have karted twice how could you beat me now?"

"I don't have to beat you again. I already did so it doesn't matter" Charles looked like he was gonna explode.

"Your such a cunt" Charles whispered under his breath and I chuckle.

"Says the raging asshole" I mutter and suddenly I feel a harsh slap on the back of my head.

"Ow!" Charles had already turned to slap the person back just as I did but we both turned away as it was Enzo.

"Y/n your mother told me to tell you that if she see's you roll your eyes again she will kick you out of the house and Charles Mamon said that if she see's you insulting her again she will also throw you out of the house-" Enzo had that strict look on his face but me and Charles glanced at each other

"I don't live with her anymore-"

"Me neither"

"Both of you. Be nice and fucking smile."

"Yes." I whisper and Enzo leaves.

"You wanna ditch?" It was maybe thirty seconds after Enzo told us to be nice.

"Yeah. You got you car?" We slowly made our way to the stairway only to be greeted by Arthur and Lance.

"Hey- oh Lance its nice to meet you I'm y/n I'm sure Leclerc has mentioned me?" Charles pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Yes... nothing nice I believe" I glare at Charles.

"Snitch" Charles mumbles

"We'll he's simply always embarrassed because i am a better driver." I laugh it off and Charles roll's his eyes.

"So not true do not believe that-"

"I have a video? Dm me on Instagram and I'll send it to you? Maybe we can talk more on there as well?" I flirt my way in a circle so that now the two boys were in our spots and we we're at the staircase.

"Oh- yeah sure?" Lance smiled like a puppy.

"No. Your not getting her socials. Arthur take him away." Charles put his hand on my waist and pulled me away and off the boat.

"Hey! I was getting myself a date?" I push his hand off.

"Your not dating another driver on the grid!" He objects and I push him away.

"And why not?" I walk on the pond until I reached the side walk going into the harbour.

"Because your mother won't allow it- come on I'll drive you home? Or anywhere come on?" I pushed him away.

"Leclerc fuck off, I'm calling a Taxi it's fine" I hated when he did that. Interfered in a perfectly fine build up.

"Stop being a bitch and come with me" he grabbed my wrist

"Oh I'm being the bitch?! You always fucking do this and I'm so not putting up with it"

"Y/n I will literally drag you come on"

"Don't you dare" We've been in this situation before, if he pissed me off he would always make me go with him anyway and either walk me home or drive me home or drive me to his place it was all the same.

"Are you coming?"

"No go away." I try to take my wrist away but he pulls me closer and there it is again. When he is close and for a second I forget all the insults and stupid remarks he makes, all the pranks and games he's played on me. All of the rumours he made up and all of the harsh slaps i got because of him. In a second where he is so near its almost frightening me.

"Please y/n? I'll drive you home and you can sulk and cry about how much your parents hate you there." But it only lasted a second.

"You fucking asshole" I slapped him

"Let me go or I'll scream" I've slapped Charles plenty of times and every time he looked like he wanted to straight up punch me back but he never did.

"I will literally choke you to death" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I really didn't think of you as the kinky type Leclerc" I chuckle and Charles rolls his eyes.

"Come on" He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to his car.

It was funny how i never got interested in formula one over the years or racing of any sorts, even though I had to attend a good amount of the races.

"My mother is calling" Charles informed me about ten minutes into the drive.

"Yes Mamon" I looked in the backseat to see the duffle bag of Clothes

"Charles where are you two? Y/n moth is about to explode in anger, reporters came and you two are nowhere to be found" I chuckled while i got some boxers and one of Charles shirts out of the bag.

"Yeah Y/n got sick so we had to leave? I told Arthur to tell you" Charles raised his eyes brow at me as I put the shirt on and took the dress off beneath it.

"What its uncomfortable?" Charles looked way embarrassed as his eyes glued to the road.

"Noh Chére, Arthur ne nous a pas dit" and there was the French again.

"mère j'emmène Y/n dans mon appartement elle va bien" I heard his Mother frown

"S'il te plaît?"

"Fine, I'll tell her mother something"

"Mercy"

"Mercy Pascale!" I shout into the phone and Charles chuckles as he puts the phone away.

"What did you tell her?" I ask and Charles shrugs.

"Your coming to my apartment because your sick we can get drunk and watch a movie?"

"Do you maybe have....?" Weed brownies, It was Pierre's recipe and the first time I had them I wanted to merry Pierre.

"I can't I have a race next weekend" The stupid FIA and their stupid drug test...

"Yes but do you have?" Maybe it was mean but it wasn't my fault that Charles became a driver

"I do and yes you can have some" I smiled at him tossing the rest of my clothes in the back.

"Thanks gods its night or people will think we fucked" Charles says after it got dark.

"Hah?" I look up from my phone putting my legs up.

"Your dressed in my old shirt and my boxers what would you think?"

"That their comfortable" I remark and he smiles.

"Can you put your seatbelt on?" He asks after another beat of comfortable silence

"Are you worried about me?" I can't help but smile.

"No we're about to pass The police." I roll my eyes putting the seatbelt on.

As we get to his apartment my mother calls me.

"Are you absolute mental?!" Charles leaves me alone in the car.

"You cannot just leave! I will talk to you Father!"

"Mom Just- I was sick and I'm at Charles I'm sorry I should've told you? " I tried to avoid arguing with her.

"I'm still here so I won't talk about this now but your going to the race next weekend and I won't tell you father about your stupidity"

"Yes yes. Mom Leclerc is waiting I've got to go ill talk tomorrow" Charles was waiting he opened the door for me and helped me out giving me his coat so I wasn't completely naked in the street.

"Thanks." I mutter And he lets me hold onto his arm noticing my unstable state.

"How much did you drink?" He asks and I shrug.

"I had like three shots before I got on the yacht" I mutter.

"Why didn't you tell me I would've drove slower I don't want you throwing up on me."

"I'm not gonna throw up on two shots of vodka Leclerc" He opens the door for me and I enter his apartment.

"Never say never" Charles mutters with a laugh.

"I'm just annoyed at my mother" I explain and jump up on the counter while Charles gets me a glass of water as well as a shot.

"You're being nice today?" I take the shot

"Had a rough week" He says and I smile.

"What movie do you wanna watch?"

"Something scary so we can laugh" I ask and Charles takes another shot to survive the night.

"Alright you chose I'll get you your brownies" I jump down and find myself into the couch where I put Anabella on.

The next morning was torture. Not only did this bitch let me sleep on the couch and not bother to put me into the guest bedroom he also left with no breakfast in the fridge.

I cleaned the kitchen from last night's drinking session and took a shower until a friend picked me up with a fresh change of clothes.

The Monaco Grand Prix was the most grandiose GP and Everybody wanted to be the one holding the trophy at the end of the dat.

I arrived at the Paddock at Saturday walking in all black and wearing my sunglasses so people got the hint that I wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Yo! Y/n" Pierre kissed my cheek and I wrap my hands around his neck.

"Hey" I take my Sunglasses off.

"You don't look good.

"I was up late studying. I had an essay to write till today and I forgot about it."

"Come I'll walk you" The alpine boy hocked his arm with mine and walked with me to the Ferrari paddock.

"Leclerc hasn't returned any of my calls since last weekend do you know if he's alright?" I ask and Pierre shrugs.

"Has been running around a lot doesn't really have time to breath" Pierre says and I nod.

"Do you think he will win?" I ask and Pierre sighs

"I mean Ferrari started pretty bad but I think if he gets a good pole position then yes. I believe, also your here" He gives me a gentle smile and i raise an eyebrow

"I'm here?"

"Yeah don't you read headlines? Your like his lucky charm" I stop walking and stare at him puzzled.

"Like he performs better if he knows your watching, He would never admit it but it show's, every time you attend the race he relaxes of sorts because he knows your gonna support him no matter what." Unconditional Love. Pascale told me that one's...

"Its easy for you two to love each other, you don't expect anything"

"So he never has to worry about performing bad which leads to him performing good" Pierre talked as if he didn't just made me realize things.

"Oh." Oh

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that he will kill me" Pierre laughs it off and I look up to see us standing in front of the Ferrari paddock.

"Don't worry, our little secret as always." He smile's and I bite my lip as I wat for Pierre to leave so I can walk into the Paddock but he stay's which must only mean one thing.

I turn around Charles smiling down at me.

"Hey" he kissed my cheeks and I greet him.

"Hey, how are you? Why haven't you picked up your phone?" I scold him and he rolls his eyes.

"I was busy calm down-"

"I am calm Charles but you can't just ignore me-"

"Hey Pierre" He ignores me greeting Pierre.

"Oh fuck you" I walk away from Charles into the Paddock And putting my sunglasses back on.

Charles got P1. It was rather surprising. The car wasn't that fast but Charles knew how to push its limits.

"Rather surprising" I set in the Paddock as Charles assistant comments on the subject with a down right look.

"Why? Charles is an excellent driver no one should expect less of him" I snap rather angrily and she nods embarrassed.

"I just meant-" Charles enters the Paddock getting out of the car.

"You did good" he walked over to me taking the bottle of water beside me.

"Best I could" He didn't look at me.

"Are you alright?" I reach out but he almost flinches.

"Yes I'm just stressed that's all love, don't worry" He makes sure to look me in the eyes now so that I know he isn't lying.

"Alright, yeah I'll see you tonight? After media?" I ask and he nods.

"Come by? we can have a drink?" He proposes and I nod.

"I'll meet you there" He let's me touch him, A brief second where his fingers brush mine.

In the evening I waited in the lounge for Charles, then i waited in my room, until I went to his knocking on his door.

"Yes I'm coming!" He sounded stressed and when he opened the door he stared at me.

"Shit- fuck I'm so sorry I completely forgot" He was in his boxer's and his shirt was unbuttoned, it wasn't like I haven't seen him naked, we ended up skinny dipping with Pierre and his friends a few year's back but it was always a pleasure.

But gods, he looked like a mess, his face was slightly red and his eyes we're as if he had cried and his lip's trembled when he talked.

"Jesus Leclerc- you look horrible what's gotten into you?" His hair was wet from a shower and i stepped inside reaching to touch his face.

"I just don't think-" he swallowed running his hand through his hair.

"I don't think I can lose this race, I don't think I can" He was having a panic attack. I pushed the door close and took my shoes off.

"Come on" the first time I saw Charles have a Panic attack was after he lost a karting event, I didn't know why it was so important to him since I rarely listened to them talk about the importance of races but I noticed his jittering fingers so I followed him into the cabin an. I tried to get him to breath, Enzo came thankfully and got him to calm down so I left them. Maybe it sounded cruel but I wasn't going to do him good back then since we we're so immature and I might even say I would have used it against him.

"Hey come on you wanna take a bath?"

He likes cold bath's

I tried to remember what I did the last time when I was alone with him like this but it was all gone.

"No I just need to breath" He looked up to the ceiling his eyes we're read, his skin felt hot and his breathing was uneven always taking one faster than he ended the last one.

" come on you need to breath" I lead him to the balcony where we we're met with the chill air and he set down, his hand's came up to his chest and his fingers trembled as he swallowed a sob after the other.

"Oh fuck- I'm so fucking done Jesus y/n I can't do this anymore" He cried out and I rubber my hands over his knees.

"Come on try to breath you fine" I waited until he leaned into my touch to take his hands where i made sure to give him a rhythm, I took his hands up when i wanted him to breath in and pushed them back down when He should exhale.

"Your doing great" I nodded at him and he nodded back.

After fifteen minutes he was calm and quiet.

I got up and got him water with some gin.

"You need a hug?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"Ew y/n" he was fine. I breathed through.

"I should've called Enzo" I mutter as he drinks the water.

"No. Your good." I don't think he was able to complete his sentences that night.

"I'm sorry. I'm really stressed." Short words. He was looking into the night sky trying to find the stars but the lights around us we're to bright.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask and he find my eyes.

"Yes. Please." He adds and I smile standing up.

"Come on" he took my hand and I lead him to bed where he fell in comfortably.

I looked for his clothes from where i took one of his shirts and changed into them before laying down beside him.

"I am still angry at you" I whisper and he raises an eyebrow

"You couldn't have bothered to put me in the guest bedroom could you?" I ask and I see his faint smile.

"Room's are for people. Not for dogs." I gasp and slap his arm and I can't help but smile when he laughs.

"Gosh I wish I could help you" I whisper and I notice how harsh my words we're.

He didn't seem to mind.

"You are helping me" He says and I smile.

"I hate you with a burning passion" I tell him and he nods.

"Good. At least one thing that doesn't change" He says and I laugh.

"Yeah" He fell asleep first, It was late when I set up and brought my knees to my chest sucking in a shaky breath with a following sob.

It was Hurting me, of course he was an asshole, he did terrible things and made me cry uncountable times.

But I would never wish to have to sit there again, his shaky hands in mine, it was so fucking scary. I felt as if his heart was going to stop any second, His skin felt so cold, His eyes we're losing their pretty colour into a red teary Breath taking pain.

"Fuck" I let my nails dig into my skin.

"Be quiet" He turned around and I scoff returning to reality.

"Fuck off"

"Shut it" He frowned taking the blanket

"Wanker" I fell asleep.

The first time I was interested in a formula one race was in 2020 Baku race where Daniel and Max where on edge, I found myself in a bit of a crush for the Dutch Driver so I paid attention.

The second time was the morning after I had to hold his shaky hands in mine trying to be as steady as possible for him.

The entire race my skin was so itchy, so I scratched it off staining my fingernails.

My mother hated it when i did that but I didn't even notice till the end of the race.

Charles stayed in P1 for 80% of the race, at the start he lost it to Max but quickly got it back when max ran into a wall because his rear end hit the wall.

The second time he lost it was because of a pit stop fail and I swear I was ready to punch the crew member myself.

"Just push a bit" I muttered and he did, he caught up pretty fast as he thankfully changed to soft tires.

When he won My heart skipped a beat, I heard his scream over the radio, It was so full of beauty I needed to breath.

I took the headphones off and waited.

"Y/n Charles asked if you could put the headphones on?" One thing I hated more than Charles was Phone calls (which i got used to) or even worse radio calls (which really wasn't necessary for survival)

"Tell him he can come find me, I'm not talking to him over a radio." I wasn't that desperate was I?

"Yes ma'am" His engineer told the message to Charles and then Looked at me blankly.

"I'm not telling her that" The engineer said into the radio and I smile.

"Did he call me a raging cunt?" I ask and The engineer looks at me in shock

"Yes." He laughs.

"Tell him he can drive into a wall for all I care" I leave the paddock soon after not wanting to be on Charles last person list.

He called me when I got back to my apartment.

"Where are you?" He was clearly in a rush.

"At my apartment?" I asked as if I didn't ditch him.

"Come to the party?" He asked and I laughed.

"I'm not really in the mood-"

"Y/n i just won the most important race in my career put your favourite dress on and get the fuck to the Party or I'm gonna drag you here" His voice was filled with laughter, even though he wanted to sound convincing or demanding he was so over joyed that it was simply impossible for him to be angry.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, no, you go have fun I'll join you in an hour" He hummed and I Heard the voices around him pulling him away.

"Promise you'll come?"

"Yes. I'll be there don't worry"

"I'll come to your apartment if you don't"

"I'm already on the way" I lie before hanging up and phone down.

I chose a red dress for Charles victory and made sure to wear the Necklace his Mother gave to me on his account on my birthday since he was 'occupied'.

I called an Taxi and took a shot so I wasn't completely sober when I got there.

It was rather cold, the party was on a massive yacht and It was almost overflowing.

I made my way up the steps carefully looking for Anybody I knew.

People seemed to know me and some came over to say hi but my brain was completely shut down.

"Y/n!" It was Pierre, Lovely Pierre who had a girl in his lap and called me over handing me his drink.

"Why did you leave early? Charles was worried! Where is he? Charles!"

"Pierre the night just started how much did you drink? " I laugh and Pierre took his drink back rolling his eyes at me.

"Are you really the right person to mother me? Miss let's see who can chug the most beer? When she was 17?" I laugh.

"Exactly I was 17 how old are you right now? 12?" Pierre scoffed and I looked around spotting Charles.

He wore a black suit and a white shirt underneath the first three buttons undone and he was talking to Max.

He looked pretty, his cheeks we're flushed red and he had a glass of cranberry vodka in his hands which was even more attractive now that i think about it.

"Pierre calm down on the drinking I'm going over to Charles yeah?" He gave me a thumbs up and I smile at the girl apologetic before making my way over to the bar.

"Hey Max" I ignore Charles leaning in front of him.

"Hey Y/n" He noticed my intention thankfully and decided on Ignoring Charles as well.

Charles put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer to him and Max laughed at me as I rolled my eyes at him leaning back comfortably.

"Clingy much?" I ask and he gives me the glass of vodka.

"Its an open bar for you" He tell me and I smile.

"Why be as clingy as you want then" I take the glass.

"Somebody know the real value" Max mutters and I raise an eyebrow in question.

"Free alcohol" He explains and I laugh.

"Congratulations on p2 btw" Max scoff's.

"Thank you but no thank you"

"What? P2 is amazing! It just proves that next time you will so better" I slap his arm as he roll's his eyes.

"You know for all the things you two say behind each other's backs you do make a good couple" Max leaves us and I scoff's pushing Charles away and turning to him.

"Red for me?" He asks ignoring Max's comment.

"No for Carlos I wouldn't wear shit for you." I drink my drink.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I chose that necklace for your 20th?" Charles picked the small red heart shaped gemstone.

"It was from your mother."

"No! I chose it and I wanted to give it to you myself but I had a race you cunt" he dropped it, my skin missing his touch.

"Liar! Your mother didn't tell me you had a race and we all knew you didn't chose it you we're off somewhere while I had to spend five hours in a thight dress smiling for pictures. " I scoffed at him and he stared at me.

"It was a Sunday. I had a race in Spa Belgium. My mother didn't tell you because she didn't want to worry your Mother who always made a big fuss about it and would've want you to join me. But it was your birthday and you hate to attend the races" He explained and I swallowed.

"I got you that necklace a month even before your birthday. I got it In France, me and Pierre we're driving around all afternoon because I knew you wanted That exact one. It was the one you asked your Father to buy you that summer" Charles just talked and explained while i stared at him, how could such an insufferable annoying little shit be such a sweetheart all of the sudden rather has always been and how was I only noticing it now? Charles kept defending himself for another 5 minutes calling me a raging cunt five times as well.

"Thank you" I interrupt him at some point.

"It's one of my favourite necklaces. Thank you" It became my favourite in that moment.

"and I don't hate attending your races"

After another two drinks Lando and Carlos came over and started to talk to Charles about the race.

"Lando you wanna dance?" I asked the brit and he Looked at Charles for an answer.

Charles wasn't listening so he just shrugged and offered me his hand.

"Why not" He let me walk behind him until we got on the dance floor where he put his hands on my waist and guided me to the music.

"Did you and Charles fight?" He asked over the music leaning down so i would hear him.

"I mean we always fight" I shrug letting my hands fall around his neck.

"Yes but like why did you want to dance with me and not with him?" He asked and i raise an eyebrow.

"Maybe Because i don't like Charles?" I laugh and Lando scoffs.

"To be honest The first time i saw you two i thought you we're dating" I laugh at his stetment.

"But then you trippee him and walked over him so I was like nah... But it did take Carlos to tell me that you weren't dating so i would belive it.

"Oh?" I laugh at him and He smiled.

"Well We're really not- so yeah I'm single like a Pringel" I joke and he laugh's again.

The first time I met Lando Charles had told him that I was a huge McLaren hater which obviously wasn't true but Lando believed him and would straight up ignore me for a month.

Carlos confronted him for me and then he laughed at the both of us for a week before clearing it all up.

"Come on let's get another drink before i start sobering up again" Lando took my hand and got us back to the bar where I ordered two beer's on Charles account.

"I can pay its fine" Lando tried but i Scoffed.

"Charles is paying don't worry" I hand him the bottle and he smiles.

The night went away quick and soon the people started to leave, Lando had pulled me into his lap as we set in a couch cirlce where the other drivers had started to gather around aswell.

"To be honest I though I was gonna spin out in the fifth lap but i somehow stayed in control" Lance had started talking to Lando and I watched as the two drivers exchanged infos about they're car's.

"Y/n whats your favorite car?"

"Oh I'm not really intrested in car's" I sip on my drink and they laugh.

"Its a Ferrari" Charles set down beside me and I waved a Pierre who took the seat beside Charles.

"Hm?" I Raise my eyebrow.

"Your favorite car is a Ferrari." He says and I smile.

"Is it now?" I ask and he nods taking my hand.

"Yes so you can get down from the McLaren now." He yanked at my wrist and I almost fell off Lando but Lando made sure to Hold me not paying attention to Charles.

"Ow fuck you" i take my hand away from him as he smiles.

"Y/n i swear if you fuck one of the Drivers im calling your mother" Charles says and I scoff.

"You wouldn't dare! And im not fucking anybody anyways... just having fun" I turn away from him but he doesn't let me.

"I'm being sirius. Nobody on the grid."

"How about I fuck you engineer and check if he will be able to focus on you again while I'm in that fucking garage?" I push his buttons.

"Y/n I'm not joking-"

"Stay out of my love life Leclerc. It doesn't concern you." I spat and Charles stared at me for a while, My head kept spinning and gods his lips looked angelic.

"Don't be like that" he asked and I swallowed harshly.

"You were the one who just tried to push me off a man's lap"

"I didn't push you off your over reacting"

"Maybe because i've been drinking for five hours straight to a party you made me come to?" Charles noted my comment and nodded then turning away.

"Well good point, still you try to much Xavi and I'm actually gonna punch you" Charles Grabbed his beer bottle and I scoff.

"Xavi and I have already fucked-"

"No!" Charles and his nöh's we're rather interesting.

"Yës!" I mocked him and he yanks my hand again.

"Say your joking!" He pull's me off Lando's lap and I stand up so that Lando let's go off my hip.

"Make me" I laugh and jump over some peoples feet as Charles launges up to catch me.

"Y/n i swear to god! Say your joking" I run through some people and out on the open where Charles catches me pushing me against the rails. His hand's lock me in place and I push mine on his arms trying to push him off

"What if I'm not?" I ask and he groan's his hand falling on my waist.

"I'm gonna push you off this boat" Charles said and I smile.

"Push me" I dare him and suddenly his hand's come up beneath my thighs picking me up and I shriek putting my arms around his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist as he set's me down on the railing.

"Okay, okay fine I'm kidding! Don't let go" I eased when he didn't push me further and simply let me sit on the rail and look down on him.

Charles breathed through and let his head fall in my lap for a bit.

"Your a torture"

"The best you can get" I lift his head he smiles.

"I don't get us" he says and I nod.

"Yeah you we're about to kill me and now your simping for me again, chose a side will you?" I laugh and he groans again.

"You wanna go home?"

"Can I sleep in an actual bed rather than Your old couch?" I ask and he scoffs

"That's a brand new couch" he protests and I frown.

"Alright get me down" His hand's came up on my thighs again and he put's me down and guides me back to the bar so he can pay his hand resting on my lower back.

"Alright we're off" Charles Kissed Pierre on the cheeks and I hugged Lando kissing his cheeks.

"Bye" I hit Pierre on the back off his head and ducked behind Charles when he hit me back.

"Fuck you" He muttered and Charles guided me down the yacht.

"The cab should be here any minute"

"Ugh" I took my phone out and leaned against his chest with my back.

"What are you doing?" He put his head on my shoulder.

"Following Lando On Instagram" I mumble as I go to DM him

"Why?"

"Maybe we can go out sometimes" I muse and he snatches my phone putting it in his pocket.

"No" I roll my eyes.

"Jesus I'm just being friendly Leclerc, give me my phone"

"No your fine, come on get in the cab" I stumble along the pavement until I Reach the car where He opens the door for me and lets me inside.

I take my Highheels off and he takes them holding them for me. I watch him.

His eyes as he thinks, his lip's as he tries to form words, his hand's (gods his hands) the way his fingers lingered on my shoulder and the way He breathed slower.

He helped me out of the car as i tip toed up the stairs to his apartment so I wouldn't get my feet dirty which he picked up on so he grabbed my by the waist and i shrieked again as he carried me up the stairs in a second.

"Jesus Leclerc you got to stop doing that! How do you have this much strength anyways?" He set's me down on the cold apartment floor after he opened the door for me and I walk into his Bathroom washing my face off and breathing through.

I take off the necklace and my rings leaving them on the small plate where all of his Rings we're placed.

Charles was sitting on his bed scrolling on his phone as I got into the room looking through his closet to get my favourite shirt.

"Can you help me with the dress please?" I ask and he got up unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter covering my chest as I pulled his T-shirt over my head and turning around to face him.

"Are you tired?" He asked and I nod with a smile.

"Yes very" I look at the clock at his desk which said 05:00 AM.

"Are you still drunk?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Are you alright?" I ask and he smiles.

"I don't think I've ever been happier." He tells me and I smile.

"I don't understand us" He tells me again.

"I know. I don't either. Not since we started to... I don't know become friends." I nod and throw my head back in despair.

"But let's not tonight, let's just be happy tonight and fight about it tomorrow?" He asks and I nod.

"I'm gonna go wash up you can go to sleep already?" He breaks us back into life and I push myself over to the bed falling down.

I don't know if I fell asleep or not but I felt him beside me after some time. I didn't want to open my eyes when I felt his finger's push my hair behind my ear, I didn't want to open them when he pulled me closer by the waist and I didn't want to open them when his lip's touched my forehead whispering a good night.

We didn't talk for a month after that. I went back to studying and he went back to racing, I got out of my mothers way when ever she tried to get me to something he was attending, we had both come to a realization that we did like each other, that we didn't hate each other and I noticed how people had started to ease around me when they knew Charles as if he had stopped Saying all those things about me so Initially I stopped as well, Just skipping over him when he came up in a conversation trying to get myself away from thinking about him.

"Come on we're going out" it was about 11 P.M. and I was sitting in the Library going over some material trying to memorize several text's.

"Hm?" It was a friend of mine Ashley who already took my coat and helped me up.

"You've been stuck here for five hours we're gonna go change and then go drink.

"I really have to finish this" I tell her but she already pulled me away.

We went to a shady club somewhere at the end of Monaco and she made me take about ten shot's one after the other before taking me to play bear pong.

"Y/n I'm off with- what's your name? Julio you have fun!" it was about two when Ashley left, I kept on drinking feeling myself in the moment and dancing with random guys I found at the bar.

It was four when i ended up outside walking along the street trying to think of somebody to call.

"Pick up" I pled Having Charles number pulled up while The phone started to ring.

"Oui? c'est quoi ce bordel? qui est-ce?" Charles picked up his deep voice made me blush immediately.

"Hey where are you?" I ask and I hear him shuffling.

"What? Y/n its 4 A.M? I'm at my apartment? where are you?" I heard him shuffle some more and yawn.

"So your in Monaco?" I ask and I hear him frown.

"Yes? Its summer break? Are you drunk? Where are you?"

"Not drunk! Just a bit tipsy" I balance myself on the pavement falling down.

"are you alright? where are you?"

"Fuck, I'm I don't know where" I look around.

"Are you alright? what happened?" I heard him stand up and go through his closet.

"Just fell down. Uhm I'm sorry I just wanted to.. I don't know we just haven't talked and My mother has been pushing but I just didn't want to see you" I explain and I hear his house door close.

"Send me your location I'll be there in a second" He orders and I sigh Trying to do as he says.

"Y/n can you hear me? your location?" Charles asked again after a while and I swallow a sob. I send him my location looking at his message which was sent a fucking month ago.

"Yeah, yeah, You don't have to come I'm alright I'm just sorry... I kind of messed us up" I tell him and hear him scoff.

"We're fine, your fine, I'm fine, I'll be there in a second just wait" I nod and hear how he gets in his car. I get up and start walking again.

"Y/n?" He asks and I wipe away my tears.

"Just breath alright?" He asks and I Breath through nodding.

"I'm sorry" I whisper and hang up looking around while i wait for him.

Gosh how I love his car. The black Pista pulled up on me and He got out putting his coat around me in a second.

"Jesus you look fucked-"

"Fuck you" I scoff as I wipe away my tears again trying not to cry as I lean into him.

"Hey, hey come on your fine" He pulled me into a hug and I nod against his chest and he Helps me into the car opening the door for me.

"Come on you wanna go to your apartment?" I shake my head.

"I wanna go to yours?" I ask and he smiles.

"As you wish Chérie"

We drove in silence and I took my High heels off.

"Thank you for getting me" I whisper after a while.

"Always" He smiled and I lean my head against the window watching him drive.

"I think you we're right" I tell him and he raises his eyebrow.

"I do like Ferrari the most.... at least if your driving" I add and Charles smiles.

"Thank you I believe myself to be a quiet good Driver" I stare at his hand's.

"can I hold your hand?" I ask and he frowns but holding me his hand anyways.

"Why? Don't bite me please" I laugh leaning into his direction as he let's me hold his hand, i don't hold it but rather examine it letting my fingers run over them, they we're solid and his skin was hard in some places.

"What are you doing?" He asks after a beat of silence.

"I don't know, trying to figure out why I'm attracted to somebody's hand's" I state and when i look at him I see how flushed his face has gotten.

"Alright stay for a second" he stopped the car and I look outside seeing that we have arrived. He opened the door for me and helped me out taking my high heels and I go up the stairs faster than he so he doesn't attempt to carry me up again.

"Let me" He opened the house door for me and I walk into his apartment falling onto the couch.

"Don't do that, go to the bathroom and wash up yeah?" He tapped my leg and i rolled off the couch doing as he told me.

I washed my legs in the shower for a second and cleaned my face off before finding myself to his bedroom where he got me a hangover drink and some water.

"Do you just have those laying around?" I point to the hangover drink which he hand's me.

"I do actually yes" I drink the shot of whatever the fuck is in those things and Cringe handing the empty bottle back to Charles who was smiling at me.

"Thank you" i mutter and see that he already laid out the shirt I liked.

"Can you help me with the dress?" I ask and he does unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter again and cover my chest as I slip into his shirt.

"Are you alright?" He asks as I sit down on the bed.

"No... I'm so fucking Tired" I laugh and he hands me the water bottle.

"Me too" he informs me and I press my lips together.

"I shouldn't have called you" I tell him and he scoff's taking my hand and pulling me into him so I flop down on his chest in exhaustion.

"I'd rather have you call me than anybody else" he tells me as I curl up into his side, he holds my waist and I feel how his breath steadies.

"Thank you Charles"

"I love it when you say my name" He tells me and I Smile turning around so I'm facing him, I lift my finger and push his hair out of his face so I can touch him.

"I think we're kind of unhealthy" I tell him and he laughs hugging me a bit more giving me enough room so I can bury my face into his neck and breath in his scent.

-K<3

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anika-ann · 2 years

Text

Love on the Brain - part 6.2

Ch6: Floriography (2/2)

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6000

Summary: After the long night, you come back to the case with fresh eyes… and a new piece of evidence. You wished more evidence was good news. It’s not.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics; Second part - the few first paragraphs in italics are from the end of part1 of sixth chapter, just to remind you what’s up 😁

“Why don't you ever use your strength on me?" she said. “Because love means renouncing strength," said Franz softly. – Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

No one protested against your plan. No one pointed out that the Tony’s coffee machine was a thing from caffeine addicts’ dreams and could prepare virtually anything. No one offered to help you with the large number of cups and sweet treats you had mentioned, understanding that needing air meant needing some alone time too.

It seemed they could all be pretty smart cookies after all – you would crack this case before it was too late, right? There were no other options anyway.

You motioned an awkward ‘gotcha’ on Emily and Hotch, nodding to yourself.

“Should have remembered those orders – some things never change,” you said wistfully, grabbing your phone with a credit care in its case. “Coming right up, guys. It’s on me.”

“Thanks, Bean.”

You smiled tightly at Spence, all but escaping the room as you felt more and more embarrassed at your emotional outburst – something coffee could hardly make up for, especially since it wasn’t your first scene in the past 24 hours.

You were all over the place ever since this mess started and you really did need to get your head straight.

And since getting a good night sleep in Steve’s room – bless him – didn’t help, your morning slip-up only making for more nerves, it seemed that you needed to do it alone.

…

As you stalked towards the elevator, quick on your feet, you heard him before you saw him. You sped up – but you could never outrun a supersoldier.

He fell into step with you, still a foot behind when he tried to talk to you – something you desperately didn’t want to do unless you were interested in falling apart.

“Sparkles,” he called out softly, having you grit your teeth as you ignored the itch to either push him away or to jump into his arms – because everything bad always disappeared when he held you. Or it felt as if it did.

But this wasn’t going to just go away with a hug; you needed to actually solve the case to have that happen and you couldn’t afford to be distracted, be it by your weakness or Steve’s presence or his complete lack of self-preservation.

“Steve, we’ve talked about this,” you hissed. “Go back to that room or I swear to god…”

“No.”

You halted in her steps, head snapping to him to shoot him an incredulous glare. He said what?

“What the fuck do you mean no?”

Could he just wipe that stupid concern out of his face and go back to where he had five other people protecting him instead of parading around when he could get shot?! What was wrong with him?!

Why did he have to be so obstinate and irritating and--- so Steve.

“I mean no,” he repeated firmly. No shit. “You’re upset and I-“

You shook your head, not letting him finish as you started walking again, long strides in quick succession so you could escape him before he could try and dive into your feelings and try to help. Before you could punch him or maybe kiss all the stupid out of him.

You sped up upon the last thought, practically breaking into a run.

You may not be able to outrun a supersoldier, but you could try to outrun the onslaught on feelings you had. For him, among others.

Ha, he said no. Idiot.

“You know what? Fine. Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. See if I care!”

The elevator door slid open invitingly, having you slip in and turn on your heels to glare Steve down just in case he didn’t get the memo.

Vainly.

“Sparkles, wait. Just stop for a minute,” he pleaded as he pushed into the elevator with you just as the door was closing.

“Seriously?!”

God, he was the most maddening person on this damn planet-

“What floor, Agent Jones?” Jarvis asked, perfectly polite and unfazed, while you crossed your arms on your chest, staring ahead and ignoring Steve standing by your side.

“The lobby, J. Thank you,” Steve replied to the artificial intelligence calmly.

Jarvis didn’t even reply, sending the elevator down in slow pace as to prolong your suffering.

Even when making a point of avoiding Steve’s gaze, you could see him in your peripheral vision. He kept looking at you steadily, resembling a kicked puppy as you watched the numbers tick by, his presence immense and nagging even in its silence.

You reached number 24 until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“What?” you snapped, not dignifying him with a single look – which clearly bothered him. Good.

“Sparkles… look at me.”

Your stomach made a somersault at his gentle tone; you felt your resolve not to break into stupid tears again cracking.

No. You would not fall for this. You would not.

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your chin and turned to face him, mindful to glare, because he was supposed to be in the conference room minding his own sitting-on-his-ass business; you were determined to explain it to him again.

Your expression slipped when you got hit by a full load of his sincerely worried gaze.

Damn you, Steven Grant Rogers. Damn you, damn you, damn your stubborn reckless heroic ass-

“You’re so bossy and stubborn and reckless and I hate you,” you spat viciously, irritated and somehow relieved by a small smile growing on his face with each word and good lord, if he could just-

“I know. Come here.”

Carefully, slowly enough to give a chance to back out, he took your hand, twisting it slightly so your fingers rested over his pulse point, feeling every strong beat of his heart. You felt your expression falter further. That bastard read you like a book. Reading between the lines, staring straight through the wall of anger you had put up to reveal the fear underneath.

You felt his eyes studying your face as you stubbornly focused on the wall behind his shoulder – even if the dead eyes of Kyle Meyers were glaring back at you – until the mass of muscle moved closer and closer, once again giving you enough time to stop him. But you didn’t.

You accepted his hug instead, gulping against the lump in your throat when he enveloped you entirely, arms shielding you from the world, his chin resting on the top of your head. You melted into him as few stray tears rolled out of your eyes at last, seeping into his shirt.

He didn’t say another word; he just held you close, until you relaxed into him, hands reluctantly rising to wrap around him as well.

You were painfully aware that the elevator had stopped, but Jarvis had enough tact at least to leave the door sealed.

“Okay… maybe--- maybe I don’t entirely hate you,” you admitted quietly and lord, wasn’t that the truth.

You felt him smile into your hair, his hand rubbing your lower back comfortingly. He held you so carefully and yet firmly, giving his reassurance and comfort so willingly, his frame pressing to yours reminding you he was strong and not easily hurt.

And that he cared.

He cared so much, offering not only his body heat to sooth the shivers running up your spine whenever you remembered the board in the meeting room with his pictures on it, but also warmth; kind, protective and almost loving, stoking the feelings you were so stubbornly stomping on. Your own love. Actual romantic love.

No, of course you didn’t hate him – not even when he was being a stubborn jerk.

You loved him.

You loved him with your whole heart and you couldn’t imagine losing him and all your damn investigation was falling apart and maybe so were you a little and you hated that.

You sniffled a few times, fighting the full-on sobbing. It was only over a day, but you were psychically exhausted and you knew you were being unreasonably impatient but that didn’t really help you to stop being that way, only adding to your frustration. And to the fear that no matter how hard you tried, this might end up in a tragedy.

You had no right to dump all that on Steve, you needed to deal with this shit on your own; but you told him anyway.

“I’m… scared,” you whispered reluctantly, Steve’s arms tightening momentarily at your admission.

“I know that too. Thank you.”

You chuckled minutely, pushing slightly against him so you could look up at him, eyebrow raised in doubt.

“For being scared?”

“For being worried,” he corrected you softly.

He didn’t say it out loud, but as you met his gaze, you heard the rest of his words as clear as if they had been spoken: thank you for being worried for me.

You’d always be. Watching him now, the gorgeous image of his face, beauty written in his features and expression, body and soul, you knew your feelings were never going to go away. Even years down the line, even if you’d live in another city and cut all communication, the picture of Steve – and more so, the burn of a feeling whenever he touched you – would always remain.

He watched you with a tiny smile on his lips, tender fingers fixing the hair that had got out of place when he hugged you, the gentlest caress of his fingertip on your temple. You released a shaky breath when the pad of his index finger slid down to your chin, holding it up to keep your gaze trapped in his; as if you wanted to escape it again.

His eyes roamed your face – it occurred to you that you must have looked like such a mess and he didn’t seem to care – settling on your lips, sending your heart into frenzy, your gaze flickering to the temptation of his mouth in such intimate proximity.

Inevitable gravity guided you to erase the last distance, fighting with the reason in your brain. The spark was tangible now, you could taste it on your tongue as something in Steve’s eyes shifted, pupils dilating like they had when the morning found you in his bed and you had suggested sharing it. His insanely tempting lips were right there for your taking, barely moving as he spoke your nickname softly, no more than three inches from your mouth.

“Sparkles, I-“

The ding of the elevator shattered the moment, having you draw in a sharp breath, Steve’s firm arm on you loosening enough for you to take a step back, head spinning. You were pissed beyond belief for Jarvis’ timing – and grateful.

Not the time. Now was not the time.

Gulping, you stepped out to the lobby, Steve following suit – reminding you that he in fact, shouldn’t, as you walked past the few other employees walking in the lobby.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you sighed, not even bothering to look at him, knowing how he’d react.

“I’m still in the building,” he argued, voice a little raspy, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, your stomach deliciously warm still.

Leave it, Jones.

Later. Think of it as a reward. We’re 75% sure he feels the same now, he wanted the kiss too. This will be worth the try, chances are high.

LATER.

You cleared our throat. “True that, but we said you shouldn’t be walking alone. This isn’t even the residential area.”

“The private elevator is right here. I think I can make a few steps without hurting myself...” Steve continued, almost carefree. “I’m not you when you get drunk.”

Should you punch him or kiss him for trying to be funny? Maybe both at once – just punch his mouth with yours. He was literally asking for it.

“Ha, ha,” you laughed sarcastically. “You’re still a little shit, GG.”

And I love it. I love you. How dare you.

“So are you,” he shot back, pace leisurely, getting you to slow down too. “Look, Sparkles… I know—I didn’t want to take this seriously, but I see it is now. I promise, I just wanted to check on you. Thank you for calling in your old team. I know it couldn’t have been easy and it brings memories.”

You sighed. It was hard to be mad at him when he talked like that. And looked like that.

“It does, actually. But mostly the nice ones,” you assured him, a smile playing on your lips.

It was easy to say that now; now that he was with you, when you got the ugly emotions out. Steve might be a little shit – but you’d be damned if his presence wasn’t all things wholesome.

“Like Dr. Spence Genius Reid and his ridiculous coffee preferences? ...or Genuis Penelope Garcia who calls you angel or honey?” he added quickly after a beat, having you stop dead in your tracks, your jaw falling slack.

No. No fucking way.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, stunning you speechless for a moment.

Make that 85%. Maybe 90% if you were counting the way he instantly zeroed on Reid rather than Garcia – and yes, it could have been that Reid was actually physically present, but… maybe it wasn’t just that.

“Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends? Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“No,” he said way too fast, utterly unconvincing.

You gave him a look, wordlessly asking him to try again and think before speaking. Red tinted the tips of his ears, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans as his gaze lowered to the floor for a moment.

Oh god, he really had been jealous the whole time. You couldn’t believe it. The gentle stroke to your ego was such a welcomed feeling it almost had you forget all about the troubles of this morning.

“Well, you’re—you know, you’re…” Steve muttered, swallowing heavily as he was looking for the right words, “you’re one of the most important people in my life. And you get along with them so well… they might end up stealing you back. So… yeah. I might be. A little bit. I just don’t want to see you go.”

Oh.

Your heart swelled with affection at his confession, stumbling in your chest when he looked up to meet your gaze, shy and a little guilty.

As if only his behaviour was the insufferable one; as if he was the only one whose fears got the best of them in the past 30 hours or so.

“Oh GG,” you whispered, fingers itching to comfort him. “I don’t think I could go back to that job. I know we were making a difference there too, but here… there’s just something very right about being here.”

With you.

At that, the corners of his lips quirked up a bit, eyes lighting up. Encouraged, you continued.

“And you’re one of the most important people to me too…. So I’m glad you’re letting them help. Now let me save all of our lives and sanity by bringing coffee and donuts.”

“We could have had it delivered,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m honestly so done with being copped up. It’s clearly not helping my judgement. Scratch that, it’s driving me crazy and I’ll be happy to breathe in the New York City’s not-so-fresh air.”

Steve hung his head with a sigh, eyeing the busy streets with longing. What an adorably pitiful image of a huge man.

“I can relate to that. I am definitely jealous about that. Going out.”

Grimacing, you reached out to rub his arm – and with a last second decision, you stepped on your tiptoes, pressing a brief kiss on his cheek. The shortest stubble prickled your lips, a welcomed distraction from the fact that your aim was a little off.

He gifted you with a soft smile, large hand landing on your shoulder as if keep you in place, thumb caressing the bare skin on the side of your neck. The thrill it sent through your veins had you nearly tremble in excitement.

Definitely 90%.

It was like a shot of an instant determination to get this case done as fast as possible for a whole different reason – so you could explore this sooner. Preferably three minutes ago so you could make out in an elevator.

Later, Jones. Focus.

“I know, GG. I’ll be back before you know it and the caffeine will help us solve this and we’ll be back to our routines.” Perhaps with some adjustments. “Though I’ll let you run a few extra miles before joining for your next morning run, I can already tell you’ll be sprinting like a crazy supersoldier. Soon.”

Maybe if you said it one more time, you’d actually believe the optimistic view.

“You could keep up,” he said, sounding confident he was right.

The way his eyes subtly flickered all over you, a shadow of a promise when he met your gaze again, had you swallow loudly. Perhaps he wasn’t only talking about running; and damn, wasn’t that distracting and since when did Steve flirt with you? Little shit-

Later. You’ll deal with this later.

Your lips twitched as you shook your head.

“Yeah, right. In my dreams. Maybe,” you threw over your shoulder and you walked out of the building at last.

Once outside, you shot him a look and mouthed an amused and exasperated go back when you found him still watching you – as pleasant as it was to have him look at you with longing that went beyond envying you your freedom. He looked at you as if you had been in his dream before; and the mere idea made you giddy all over.

In your dreams, there might have been some other activities revolving around Steve and keeping up with him, but you wouldn’t spell that out for him. Yet.

Steve shook his head as if he heard your thoughts and disagreed, spinning on his heel and heading back to the elevator.

Maybe you imagined it, but there seemed to be a new pep in his step; there definitely was in yours.

Truth was, Steve would have done nearly anything you’d asked him; and so when you told him to just go back at last, he obeyed, even if he was in no rush to return to the conference room. In fact, he made to turn and the moment you weren’t looking anymore, he watched your retreating figure until you rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Only then, he shuffled his feet back to the elevator.

His body was still buzzing; his senses and his mind were full of you. How your body always mended into his so naturally, how you had looked at him in the morning, still sleepy, but so trusting – and almost heated as you practically proposed you two shared the bed next time. Most recently, how your lips brushed his cheek, low, so low it was almost on his jaw, almost in the corner of his mouth.

It was maddening, really, that you didn’t aim an inch or two elsewhere, but it filled him with heat – and with hope.

It was there earlier too, even if originally, he had followed you to the elevator only to comfort you.

But once inside, it was impossible to ignore the sparks spicing the air as you looked up at him; with such intensity, eyes wide, affectionate… as if you wanted to kiss him there too. You even leaned in; he tasted your breath on his tongue, his lips almost brushing yours--- and then Jarvis just had to mess it up.

To say Steve was disappointed was an understatement, but coming clean about his jealousy later and the sweet reward in the form of a kiss – albeit only on his cheek – almost made up for it. It felt like a promise; and Steve couldn’t wait to collect, making a promise to himself that when, hopefully when, you’d kiss him and agreed to go out on a date, he’d laid the world to your feet.

So no, Steve wasn’t in any rush to go back to the grim conference room, empty of your presence, but full of threats to women he had dared to speak with.

He re-entered the room with a sigh, met with concerned gazes of your former teammates as Natasha and Tony seemed engrossed in guaranteeing the women from the photos a bodyguard to escort them to the Tower.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Reid questioned with a soft frown, only making Steve sigh again.

He would be jealous and inclined not to reply, but he understood that the question was coming from a place of genuine worry and friendship.

And it wasn’t Doctor Spencer Reid you had almost kissed a few minutes ago.

“I think so,” Steve said, his lips turning upward again as he recalled something akin to amusement when you were leaving the building, lighter on your feet you had been walking out of this very room. Yeah, you’d be okay. “I know she really was sorry about earlier. She’s… she worries,” he defended you gently.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Emily assured him as she looked up from the reports on the table, a somewhat teasing smile playing in the corner of her lips. “If I had my boyfriend in danger, I wouldn’t have a clear head either and would sure as hell snap at people.”

“We’re not-“

“You might as well be,” Natasha interjected as Steve automatically went to disprove Emily’s assumption.

Smartass redhead.

“She’s my best friend,” Steve protested lamely, unable to help the giddy feeling of hope warming up his chest.

You were. But maybe, maybe, you could be more soon.

“Eeeeeh yeah, but you’ve been doing googly eyes on each other since forever and you’re grinning like you finally kissed the hell out of her. Come on, it looks like even the profilers from the FBI think you’re dating,” Tony added, smirking as he looked up from his work as well.

“Now you trust profiling?” Steve sassed him back.

“We just trust someone who’s been working with the kid for years,” Natasha hummed. “And is a profiler.”

Steve just gaped, having no counterargument.

Why was he friend with these people again?

“That’s not--- not the point. I just wanted to say that she’s been so determined to resolve this ever since she found the photos and it’s taking us longer than she imagined, I guess,” he sighed again, scowling at the offending objects. “I understand her concern with--- she must have seen a lot of cases like this when she was with your team.”

The air in the room shifted – metaphorically and literally, since Reid’s head whipped in Steve’s direction so fast Steve was surprised he didn’t break his neck.

Reid’s face was stunned, staring at Steve in silent shock, before he snapped back to the board, frantically looking all over it and then zeroing on Steve again.

Was it Steve’s imagination or did the genius’s skin turned a shade paler?

“What did you just say?” Reid asked with such urgency that it sent an icy shiver down Steve’s spine, prompting him to reply immediately.

“That when she was working with you-“

“No, no, about the photos. She was the one to find them?”

Steve gulped, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty at the other man’s surprise; he honestly thought it had been mentioned. And if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t think it was all that important with how often the mail got mixed up – but everything about Reid now was screaming that somehow, this detail was crucial.

“Uhm, yes. In her mailbox-“

“Son of a bitch--- and neither of you thought to tells us that?!” Reid exploded, his voice going an octave higher with the curse and making everyone in the room jump – and look at him as if he had grown a second head.

Blind to the reaction he received, Reid grabbed his phone, dialling, mild panic painting his features as mumbled to himself, phone to his ear.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up-“

Everyone – the BAU team included – watched the genius with mute wonder as he paced, grimacing when the only response he got was the dialling tone.

The sound was ominous in the quiet room; and as it was, a slow understanding crept up to Steve’s mind, his heart racing.

Reid looked worried, truly worried. What if he was worried for you and it had nothing to do with the way you left the room?

“Reid, what’s going on?” Emily asked at last when the man cursed under his lips, staring at his phone with disdain, eyes barely flickering up at the question.

“She’s not on any of these photos.”

Steve wished he understood what the hell stating the fact again meant.

And apparently, so would the others.

“Yeah, we knew that…?” Emily questioned slowly, visibly confused as Reid tried his phone again. “And now we learned an additional information about Jones being pulled into it more than we thought, her being the one possibly worthy enough to even find the photos, but…”

She trailed off, watching Reid helplessly as he ignored her, turning his back to them all, mumbling under his breath again.

A lump in his throat – and a mess in his head – Steve looked at the last remaining member of the BAU. Hotch’s gaze was calculating as he observed the board and Reid’s erratic behaviour.

Then all of sudden, his whole demeanour changed, eyebrows rising, arms uncrossing; the most expressive Steve had ever seen him.

“Reid. You’re not seriously suggesting Jones planted the pictures and is actually the unsub?” he questioned, voice flat.

Steve felt the wind knocked out of him, blood pressure skyrocketing so fast his head actually spun for a second. His fists clenched on their own volition, as to defend you against the completely absurd claim.

“I’m sorry what did you just say?” Steve found his voice, incredulous – and menacing.

Steve would have thought he misheard agent Hotchner, but the beat of shocked silence that followed told him he wasn’t the only one rendered speechless.

Reid’s head snapped to them, a scowl on his face, hand with a phone still by his ear.

“What? Of course not, that’s absurd!” he blurted out, almost offended. “But she might be a target!”

Cold horror seized Steve, stealing last remnants of breath from his lungs. Claws of ice, not unlike those which grabbed him when he plunged the aircraft into the Arctic, bit into his skin, quickly gnawing deeper, aiming straight for his heart.

A confused what sounded in the room, maybe even from Steve himself, but he wouldn’t be able to tell.

All he thought of was you, possibly in danger. Of you walking down the street with a light smile on your face, numerous coffees in hand along with a box of donuts, not having a single clue that you might be the very target of the stalker you were investigating. You, unsuspecting, suddenly catching a bullet straight between-

Doctor Reid’s cursing snapped him back to reality – but a nightmare was still unfolding in front of him.

“Goddammit! Can’t you--- tap into her phone or something?” Reid demanded frantically, earning a reluctant and very much confused response from Tony.

“I could…?”

“Do it,” Steve barked without thought, already making his way out of the room, adrenalin pumping.

Natasha was faster, making him stop by stepping in his way boldly – and stupidly.

Did she think she could stop him? Why would she even try? This was you. They couldn’t expect him to just stand back, that was simply absurd.

“You sit down, Romeo.”

“I’m not sitting down,” Steve spat, irritation rising. “Tony, do you have her location yet?”

“Jarvis is on it…” Tony said slowly, watching Steve try to sidestep Natasha with a frown, the spy mirroring Steve’s movements, her face speaking of just how unimpressed she was. “For whatever reason.”

“I don’t care for the reason—Jesus Christ, Natasha, get out of my way before I move you! If Reid thinks she’s in danger-“

“Then still, Natasha’s right, you are not going anywhere,” Hotch stated almost calmly – but Steve could tell that his façade was cracking. He was scared for you too – only more reason to get fucking moving.

Bullets or no bullets.

“We’re wasting time here. Those bullets are not just dangerous to me,” Steve reasoned swiftly, glaring murder on Natasha who reciprocated it wholeheartedly. “I’m probably still the one least likely to get seriously hurt-“

“That’s not exactly true, they’re calibrated to your DNA-“ Tony pipped up.

A growl gathered in Steve’s chest and he wasn’t about to hold it back.

His fists itched to punch his way through anything and anyone. Because this was you. And he didn’t give a damn about anything else, because his ribcage felt tight at the mere thought of you getting hurt. Let alone—he couldn’t even think it.

“I don’t give a damn. If she’s in danger-“ he argued again, pissed beyond believe because he could have already been on his bike and Tony would text him your location on his way down to the garage-

“I’ll take Clint,” Natasha announced, having Steve sigh irritably, because telling Barton only prolonged the time you stayed unprotected, which was simply unthinkable.

“You guys stay here, especially you, and keep trying to reach her,” she stared at Steve pointedly before moving onto Reid. “And you explain to them what the hell is going on. Keep us updated.”

Steve grinded his teeth, but before he could protest, Natasha exited the room and Hotch subtly took her place.

“I know this is hard, but you need to stay,” he said, using the same tone he had when you lost your nerve earlier, levelling him with a steady look, and it made Steve nearly combust with frustration.

Because he was not you – he didn’t answer to this man. Especially since you were in danger…but he was willing to give him one minute more. He didn’t move as Hotch looked over his shoulder at Reid and reluctantly followed his line of gaze instead.

“Do you think the stalker doesn’t consider her worthy either?”

“No, it’s the exact opposite,” the genius muttered miserably, scratching his forehead, equally frustrated.

“Talk to me, Reid. What does that mean? Why do you think she’s a target?” Emily pressed, encouraging.

“It’s obvious-“

“Pretend it’s not, Boy Wonder,” Tony sassed him, for once speaking the words Steve would if the anxious lump in his throat wasn’t making it hard to even breathe.

“Sorry—you said that about a week ago, there was an article about you two,” Reid started, pointing to somewhere before the beginning of the timeline they had built and Steve automatically nodded. What did that- “That was probably the secondary trigger, though we still need to find the initial stressor. Anyway, the public thinks you’re dating and even your co-workers think you’re in love – and I can’t exactly blame them.”

Steve could hear Tony’s smirk, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment. It only added insult to the injury now that Steve almost kissed you – because he then let you walk out of the lobby only to find out this.

“Six days later, she receives an envelope with pictures of you. Not her, you.”

Jaws of guilt biting into his stomach at the single word: him.

You might be in danger and it was on him.

“We thought that the stalker made a mistake,” Steve said quietly, swallowing hard and feeling like a stupid little boy. “The mailmen messed it up plenty times.”

“That is not likely,” Hotch sighed. “This stalker seems incredibly meticulous, she’d know.”

“Exactly.”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists as Reid once again reached for his phone, trying to call you; with no avail, judging by his clenched jaw.

“Okay, let’s say I buy that,” Tony jumped in after yet another failed attempt. “But why take pictures of Cap if…?”

“It’s true that it’s more common to take pictures of the victim, but the unsub could have thousands of pictures of Jones we don’t know about. However, she received these 23. And in every single one of these, Steve is talking to another woman,” Reid explained. “Smiling at her, shaking her hand, possibly looking like he’s giving her his number-“

“I’m not-“ Steve defended himself lamely, but Reid only shook his head.

“They see what they want to see, fit it into their narrative. Truth is not important to them.”

“Not if they’re in love with her and want to protect her,” Hotch added, realization evident on his face.

“In love? With her?” Tony parroted, still puzzled.

Steve wasn’t; not anymore. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, creating a horror image of you and him. Him, secretly enjoying the attention you showered him with, your protectiveness over him, your persistence – leading to you both missing an essential clue.

Of course the stalker was in love with you; you were impossible not to fall for. Steve would know.

God, he was such an idiot.

“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!” Reid exclaimed, genuinely outraged on his supposed stupidity. “That’s what we’ve been missing. The photos were an act of service of sorts.”

“They say look how he’s with other women. He’ll hurt you eventually, he’ll cheat on you,” Emily continued, having tuned to Reid’s thought process.

“Yeah, exactly. And think about the flowers and the note. I’m sorry I scared you into hiding. I could hurt people who are not worthy of you, if necessary, but I would never hurt you. They were saying more than we thought---- I could hurt people who are not worthy of you. They are actually able to hurt Steve because they have the bullets. I really think we’ve been looking at it all wrong.”

They all were; you were. And it was a fatal mistake that might cost you your life.

Steve had to swallow the bile rising up his throat at Emily’s astonished face, his nails digging into his palms to relieve the tension. Why was he still here, when he had fucked up and was supposed to be out there, helping Natasha-

“Oh my god,” Emily whispered, eyes flickering all over the notes, until they landed on Steve, the genuine fear only feeding the flames of Steve’s personal hell. This was on him. Your blood could be on his hands. “It’s not the women who aren’t worthy of you…”

“The unsub thinks you’re not worthy of Jones,” Reid finished ominously and for the moment, Steve couldn’t but full support the stalker’s notion of that. “She’s the one the stalker has been after all along.”

“And she just walked out of here without care for the world,” Emily said, gulping.

“She’s still by the café though and Romanoff and Barton just arrived,” Tony announced. Steve automatically strode to him to look over his shoulder, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.

Indeed, three dots were scattered around a building of what Steve assumed was the café; and he should feel relieved at that.

But he didn’t.

Because Reid called your number again and you still weren’t picking up and Natasha wasn’t calling either.

Steve took a wavering breath as he listened to the dialling tone, his acute need to just run and check on you by himself resulting in pacing, eyes flickering to the door every other second. And every time it did, he could feel Hotch’s glare on him, a silent plea and a warning.

And then finally, Tony’s phone rang.

One tap to accept; one to put Natasha on speaker.

“Stark, we have a problem,” Clint huffed into the phone, breathless. All air was sucked out of the room at once. “Pull the security footage from her route and the café, especially the alley behind the café if you can get that. We found her phone and her watch in here.”

Your watch. Your phone. The two things that contained a locator Tony used to track you down. And they were abandoned in an alley.

Dark spots danced in Steve’s vision when choked out the question he as he already knew the answer to.

“Any sign of-“

“No. She’s gone, Steve,” Natasha said, regret lacing her voice. “Jones’ gone.”

Jones’ gone, screamed a voice in Steve’s ear in echo and he let it, squeezing his eyes shut, every muscle in his body tensing, ready to fight – but there was no one to punch. Only himself. Gone, gone gone- mocked him the voice, sickeningly sweet as it whispered the endearment Steve’s lips spoke more often than your given name. Sparkles’ gone and it’s your fault.

Steve’s fists ached to punch his way through, but he couldn’t very well punch himself. So he did the second best thing.

He drove his fist into the drywall with a roar and fuck, did the sting of a breaking skin and bruised bones feel good. It almost made up for the burn of angry tears in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

I’m sorry, he whispered in his head to the smiling image of you, panting and flexing his fingers to feel the burn as if it could prove how guilty and sorry her truly felt to the imaginary you. As if that did any good.

Sparkles, I’m so fucking sorry.

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Shoutout to those who saw through my attempts at mystery (some even in prologue).

Shoutout to those who didn’t and thus made me feel like I’m not entirely predictable. OR to those who decided not to share to help me keep the others on their toes, who followed my request and marked things as a possible spoiler.

Cough cough Dead Poets Society reference cough. I was so excited about the ‘Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends’ moment 🥺 One of the first things I wrote for this series, so I hope you enjoyed 💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #former bau agent reader #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #bau agent reader #criminal minds #love on the brain #anika ann

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sincerely-sofie · 3 months

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One thing I will say is that saying you "disagree with the term queer" Is Not A Great Look, but that could easily be a me not getting the wording as intended thing - The above assumes you mean just, queer in general though it feels more like you might've meant in reference to yourself? (Which is entirely fine - I'm of the opinion that any given label should be opt-in to anyone who's genuine about it rather than mandatory.)

Really, the main important thing I appreciate is being able to accept others where they're at. Being able to just say "Yeah, sure, ok" and go along even if I don't personally understand is honestly one of my core beliefs* too, and with minimal disrespect it's nice seeing this from a Christian. The little I actually know suggests something worth looking into, and the notion of an eternal soul is something I find fairly agreeable (if not strictly the outcomes of that.) Then again, I'm someone whose personal experience with religion can be described as a tangled web of jokes that ran too long and accidentally became character traits, so, maybe not the best judge of anything here. Also, wow, this post got away from me quickly. Originally meant to just put in the first paragraph and call it good.

*I draw a hard line the second that personal belief starts meaning harm to others. Believe what you want about yourself, but anyone saying someone else needs to change their ways (bar the very beliefs this targets, primarily meaning bigotry/racists) because of a thing YOU feel a certain way about simply can't be tolerated.

Thanks for the critique! Looking back, I definitely should have written “disagree with the term queer FOR myself” (which was actually the original wording I drafted) rather than “disagree with the term queer myself”. I was trying to cut down on my wordiness as I edited my response, but I ended up just making it a confusing sentence to read. Curse my proofreading anxiety.

I'll try not to get into it too much here because it'd probably derail this entire response to your ask, but I've got a lot of mixed feelings with most labels, especially ones that were formerly derogatory terms. My church has worked hard to pivot from being called “Mormons” because among other (honestly more important) reasons, the term was basically used as a snide and condescending way to refer to my church, and it quickly became the default phrase for addressing us. The fact that members of my faith were basically referring to themselves with an insult as I grew up in the church never really sat well with me, even if we took pride in it. I'm super impressed by those who can take once-painful words and make them into badges of honor, but for me personally, it's a real emotional minefield. Hence, in part, why I don't agree with using the term queer for myself. It's a matter of preference and personal implications.

Agh, I really rambled on for a while there. I hope that made sense.

For your second paragraph— it's sad to me that so many people have had such disheartening experiences with Christians. I swear, most of us are loving people. There's just an unfortunate amount of very vocal bible-bashers who forget that God's greatest instructions to us were to love Him and love others.

If you're interested, there's a lot of resources on my church’s website if you'd like to learn more about what we believe (though there's no pressure from me to read up on it!) I just felt like I should share because we don't believe in a Hell where people burn for all eternity.

We believe in three different “kingdoms” that everyone will be sorted into, with interaction between them being possible so families and friends can visit each other if they end up divided. The least glorious kingdom (for lack of a better term) is still an absolutely amazing place, full of light and happiness. There is a sort of Hell called Outer Darkness that I guess anyone reading about could see it as a form of eternal punishment, but people choose to go there themselves— it's a form of willing separation from God that happens when people who have an absolutely perfect knowledge of the gospel still choose to go the opposite direction. It's not somewhere you go because you drank coffee or swore in life. That'd be ridiculous.

… I opened my mouth and a missionary came out. Oops.

Anyhoo, that last paragraph is a big deal, Anon! People need to be able to choose for themselves what they'll do in their lives— any forced change is not change at all, and the second you do harm to another person that isn't in the defense of yourself or others, you're in the wrong. As you can probably tell from my tangent above, I'm an advocate for missionary work, which could be seen as telling people they need to change their ways, but the type of missionary work I stand behind is the kind that invites people to learn more— never forces— and respects when they say no. Always honor agency is my motto. Invite, don't incite. That sort of thing.

Thanks again for the critique! I appreciate your willingness to send it in and share your thoughts. I'll add a link to this ask in my original post so that if anyone else is confused by my wording, they'll be able to see this and get some better information.

#I'm running on so little sleep right now #I hope this is even half coherent #Let me know if I wrote anything confusingly! I tried my best but.#My brain is not at optimum performance atm #sofie answers asks

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morgandemorgana · 2 months

Text

Just so you know I’m not good with this one as I get anxiety when writing Tiffany especially since she’s an iconic character who got wrecked for nothing but for shock value. I’m not fan of how the show handle her character being it just painfully wasted my time for nothing and hard to watch especially as someone who grew up with Bride. So as a treat, here’s a small context of Tiffany in the AU.

Context of Tiffany In The AU Part I

-Still goth even if not goth-goth but you can best say it’s the vibe in Curse but with better hair. I love Curse okay

-Your typical femme fatale who’s also living a double life as an actress and someone who wishes for a normal life or as the tinman puts a heart to which it’s meant on her wish to be “human” metaphorically. However at the same time, she’s aware she trapped herself in that killing cycle and her own selfishness which she later accepts if hinted to when talking to Junior.

-Has a mysterious past that only those of a few close to her with Chucky knowing her past. She’s really tight lipped with her past and doesn’t like talking much about it.

-Does begin to face the consequences of her actions especially her double life as Delia Grace, an actress who’s known to be not much into the spotlight even if proficient and a mom who’s trying to not let her children know the ugly truth of their origins while facing the consequences. It’s not like S2 I swear to god but it’s more on her realizing the consequences of her actions as she later regrets out of remorse but at the same time the damage is done.

-Despises Nica in a way that kinda makes sense as there was quote I remember Jen saying that in Cult or something that hinted on it that feels way better than some obsession that doesn’t make sense. So it’s not shocking kinda not fond of the two being trapped in shitty writing.

-Yes, she takes Junior along with them having a toxic codependency as in both want to fill in the void of something they lost. Still trying to decide whether or not I should have Tiffany be a foil to either Nica or Junior in context to make sense then what the damn show is going for alongside psychological elements mainly the light and dark reflection to one another.

-Wants to love and be loved which we see that with Chucky even if both are polar opposites with their pasts, traumas and their different backgrounds.

-She’s not an unhinged dumbass as shown in the canon which I don’t want to get into that talk being honest mainly I get migraines from overthinking how they handle Tiffany in the show but let’s just say I’m not fan of how they did it to the point I’m willing to stand what people have interpret her that’s better than the show’s mess even in their own way just as long as it’s not Don’s. I just want her to be a confident calculative complex villain like how she was in Bride but later on the road we get a darker side to her that isn’t an unhinged mess, something interesting that makes sense. I don’t know as I said Tiffany is that one character I don’t touch with a 10 ft pole since the fandom is attached to her and respect that.

NOTES

-No JT is not in the AU but instead an idea I had for a while is there so kill me if I said I didn’t like the meta jokes in Seed and in the show as it’s not my cup. Maybe it’s because I watched CP2 before Bride so do apologize if that’s what makes me disconnected from a few.

-Her love for Chucky is an interesting concept which I like be explored more in later concepts as I do feel like it’s the show’s loss on exploring them and their destructiveness to one another with their hint of friendship and love.

I might be able to do Tiffany’s backstory at some point as well as how Chiffany came to be and the chain of consequences that arose in 1984 but the same time if honest I’m more hesitant since I’m not good at stronger paragraph ideas nutshell wise but willing will let anyone borrow concepts from me as long as you do it better than me.

While I do want a backstory I don’t want the show to give Tiffany a backstory mainly out of anxiety and also knowing the show, it just would just border on to trashy camp territory or just be something fans would just debate over like with Charles/Chucky’s backstory

#chucky #chucky tv series #mystic rambles #mystic au origins #chucky series #child’s play #tiffany valentine #I don’t care what’s someone interpretation of Tiffany is as long as it’s better than what Don has in the show😭😭😭

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staticl0ve · 1 year

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Heyy

Any plot ideas stirring up? Any wips you’re excited to show? (Snippets please ♥️)

Babe, you are TOO SWEET TO ME. 💙✨

So besides finishing The Pig and the Fox (which I swear I’m a few paragraphs from finishing this draft cause my god this chapter is more like two but I can’t be bothered to split it)…I have some WIPs where there’s only segments written and not full story/plot.

A supernatural AU.

The room was fuller than you’d like. Including you, there were four people crammed in the smallest leftover interrogation room to discuss a topic of sensitive nature. It was a clown car of officials: the mayor, the captain of Detroit Police Department, their Lieutenant and you, an ambassador for the supernatural, all crowded around a desk meant for two.

And of course the twins, Connor and Sixty as menaces in a human AU. This one I have more linear notes on cause it’s all vibes/no plot/everything’s building up to filth.

When asked, they’d say the best part of being a twin was sharing things. Clothes, interests, a life. Even better was that neither of the Anderson boys minded it. They thrived on the attention, benefited from it in differing ways. Girls, boys, anyone their age was infatuated with their dashing good looks. Between Connor’s gentle, heartwarming charm, tidy appearance and Sixty’s endlessly playful, fun energy and his bad boy denim jacket and white shirt style, they were irresistible.

There are other WIPs but they’re messy notes/TBD if I’d pursue them:

Hades/Persephone twist with Nines/Reader

Boy band AU (with separate one/two shots for each of the deviant hunter RKs)

Another skater Sixty, human AU as an alternate/expansion of that same Boy Next Door vibe cause I can’t get enough of him.

Finally finishing off TBND with Markus cause I’ve always meant to write his story.

1000 nights meets bodyguard/caretaker with Nines with two endings (tragic/happy)

The maybe list is a Fae AU, a Little Mermaid type scenario and some miscellaneous filth scenarios.

#my writing #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #reader insert #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #sixty x reader #nines x reader #my asks

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rottingmanifesto · 1 year

Note

‘more than anything’ for donovan !! :] (from the prompts!)

Snippet with John and my OC Canary— inspired by @berniecranes little fic he did a while back!

“Didn’t know you had one of Lincoln’s dog tags.”

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Hey, your fault for leaving them on the dresser.”

Donovan glances up from his work long enough to see Canary fiddling with the dog tags and shakes his head. The work was a goddamn paper trail with god-knows-what at the end of it. He’d picked up Canary’s habit of chewing on hangnails between paragraphs and swearing when it started bleeding. Two nails bitten down to the quick and working on a third. Beat his smoking habit, at least.

“Just put them back.”

“There’s a story here, isn’t there?”

“Oh Jesus Christ— can you just do what I ask you to for once?” He tosses down a messy dossier and stares at Canary, who shrugs in response without looking up.

“I’ll trade you.”

“Trade me what?”

“What do you want?”

“An answer to all this bullshit,” he motions to the desk, filled to the brim with files and photos. “Which I don’t think you can do.”

Canary runs a bandaged finger over the dog tags. “Have you checked Remy Duvall yet?”

“What, the shitty radio host?”

“I’m just saying, he’s been spotted with Olivia around the city. Could be worth looking into.” They throw their hands up. “Might be wrong.”

Donovan leans back. He’d need a bandage for his left ring finger after picking at the scab. “And you didn’t tell me that sooner.” It’s meant to be a question but comes out more like a command.

Canary looks away. “Didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Right. Well, I’ll look into him, if you put away the dog tags.”

They relent. “Fine. You still owe me the story though.”

“I’ll tell you if anything turns up. Deal?”

This whole summer had been marked with negotiations between residents and this one damn college kid who kept poking into things they didn’t need to. Hell, he’d faced less stress while in-country than he did in the month of July. The humidity didn’t help much.

“Fine by me.”

—

“You sure about this?”

“Wouldn’t do it if I weren’t sure.”

John lets a puff escape his lips before handing the cigarette to Lincoln, who had finished clipping his dog tag onto the chain. Lincoln was being too tender for John’s liking. There was something off.

“You really want me to have this.”

“Might be the only way we make it out.”

“Hey—we’ll get out of this.”

Lincoln shrugs. “Maybe.”

They sat on the motel bed while Lincoln took a drag then ashes what was left of the cigarette. John had some song playing but it was muted by the ticking clock that spelled the same doom he’d felt since arriving in New Bordeaux. Lincoln held out his hand, which John took. They sat in silence.

He checked his watch. “Gotta run. You keep my tag safe, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll shine it for you.”

Lincoln smirks with his little sideways grin. “Be safe.”

He left before John could say “you too”.

—

It had been another sleepless night when he propped himself up with his good hand and got a good look at the tags. They don’t bleed the same. He has type AB blood, and Lincoln has type O-negative. That bothered him. Some damn stupid little bother, but a bother nonetheless.

He eyes the phone. Maybe he would call.

More than anything, he wanted Lincoln to be safe.

#‘canary’#john donovan #my writing #i did not proofread this #I attempted the soft-ish writing again #I’m just not meant for it ig

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eolewyn1010 · 1 year

Text

Dragging Frankenstein - Chapter 6

Victor's got mail, so let's forget all about that patchwork guy stumbling around!

Oh, so we can blame Elizabeth that Frankenstein sr. never came over to the university to slap some sense into his dumbass son. Greeeeaaat.

And how she gets whiny that someone else gets to take care of her sweetie Victor, as if he wasn’t basically her older brother. *sigh* EVERY WOMAN IS A MOM: 4

…this gets a double count because she talks about Victor’s siblings also as if she were their goddamn mother. EVERY WOMAN IS A MOM: 5

Plus, she always uses “we” and “our dear children”, as in, she as a parental figure together with what his her adoptive father and was already a pretty old partner to his actual wife. INCEST VIBES: 6

This family, I swear to God.

“My trifling occupations take up my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing none but happy, kind faces around me.” …No, this sentence doesn’t drive up a particular count; it just legit makes me wanna slap Mary Shelley across the face. Woman, your mother fought for occupations that didn't have to be trifling, and for more meaningful rewards than other people's happy faces!

“Let me tell you about Justine who lived with us for years and whom you should therefore know well enough!” Another bit of this strange introducing-life-details-to-someone-who-should-already-know-them. Justine has been around for years even before Victor left???

But then, we quickly need to introduce her so she can die tragically.

“…through a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her.” I. I don’t know what to do with that sentence. Link it back to Justine being her father’s favorite, swallow down the bile, and set a count, maybe? INCEST VIBES: 7

“The republican institutions of our country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in the great monarchies that surround it.” – Huh. I’m genuinely interested in dissecting this alleged correlation.

“Justine, you may remember, was a great favorite of yours” – then WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU NEED TO REMIND HIM OF THAT???

“Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world” – y’know, it really undermines the importance of human dignity for everyone when Elizabeth makes such a point of how kind it was to let Justine partake in education etc. and how fucking grateful she is. Then it’s obviously not the self-evident course and you very much do make that distinction between “your equal” and “servant”, don’t you?

“her disposition was gay”, “restore her gaiety”, “I love her tenderly”, “she is extremely pretty” – aw, they were girlfriends. (Yes, I know that’s not what that word meant then. Let me have my fun.) DAS GAY: 16

“She was a Roman Catholic […] and her confessor confirmed the idea” – Elizabeth being a judgy Protestant, I guess.

Justine being sent back into an emotionally abusive household sucks. Poor girl.

And then the bit about William. I literally cannot even. “He has already had one or two little wives, but Louisa Biron is his favorite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.” WHAT. Yeah, yeah, play-dating among children, fine, except – William is eight, iirc. How many eight-year-old boys hang out with five-year-old girls?? What is the power dynamic there??

And why on earth is it necessary to apply this kind of vocabulary? “LITTLE WIVES”??? “HE HAS HAD [them]”??? “HIS FAVORITE”??? What the actual FUCK? What is this? Stop fucking sexualizing children hanging out with their playmates!

This paragraph made me hate William, seeing as it’s all Elizabeth tells us about his behavior / personality. Everything else is how nice he looks, fuck off.

And then it’s some city gossip and she’s finally done. Whew!

“In another fortnight I was able to leave my chamber”, “the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony” – Victor is a real wimp. Kiss that career farewell, I guess.

Also, I’m amazed that his professors at university remember him enough that he gets to introduce Henry. Didn’t he, like, ghost them all two years ago?

I hate Victor’s attitude about his professors. Oh, how dare they torture him with talking about their subjects of expertise! IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 6

And “M. Krempe was not equally docile”. Docile? That is your professor, you twat, not your servant!

Henry wanting to study Arabian, Persian and Sanskrit makes me love him a little more, ngl.

And… of course Victor is brilliant at those, too, and studies along with Henry even though that stuff doesn’t interest him. He’s just an all-around genius, I guess -.-

“How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!” …Force him to read some Ovid and Aristides, see how he likes it.

“I felt this delay very bitterly, for I longed to see my native town and my beloved friends” – sure you do, buddy. How much time is passing!? Victor is just dawdling, I swear.

“I became the same happy creature who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care.” I SO PRIVILEGED: 6

But at least “Henry rejoiced in my gaiety.” *immature snicker* DAS GAY: 17

Time for the shit to hit the fan.

And after this long chapter with a whole lot of Nothing happening, the next one, where actions have finally consequences and conclusions are drawn, is really short. Pacing, Shelley!

#Frankenstein #personal opinions #disclaimer: this is just for shits and giggles

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titoist · 2 years

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[...] ‘Stop a moment and listen to me: can you wait?’ ‘For what? What do you mean?’ ‘I love him; but that will pass, it’s bound to, it can’t help but pass; it’s already passing, I can sense it… Who knows, it may be over this very day, because I detest him, because he was laughing at me, while you were weeping here with me, because you would not have spurned me like him, because you love me and he did not, because, last but not least, I love you myself... yes, love, love, the way you love me; I did say it first, you heard me didn't you? I love you because you are better than he is, because you’re nobler, because he…’ The poor girl’s agitation was too intense for her to finish. She placed her head on my shoulder, then on my chest, and gave way to bitter weeping. I tried to console her, talk her round, but she couldn’t help herself; she kept squeezing my hand and saying between sobs: ‘Wait a moment, wait a moment; I’ll stop in a minute! I want to tell you … Don’t imagine these tears—they’re nothing, just a sign of weakness, just wait till they pass.’ At length she stopped and wiped away the tears and we resumed our walk. I made to say something but she kept begging me to wait. We were both silent … Eventually she nerved herself and began to speak … ‘This is the way of it’, she began. Her voice was weak and quavering, but it held a ring that pierced me straight to the heart and ached there sweetly. ‘You mustn’t think I am so fickle and inconstant, that I find it easy to forget and betray … I loved him for a whole year and swear to God that I was never ever unfaithful to him, even in thought. He despised that; he laughed at me—so be it! But he has wounded me and insulted my feelings. I—I don’t love him, because I can only love someone who is chivalrous and high-minded and understands me; because I am like that myself and he is unworthy of me—well, never mind. It’s better this way than being deceived in my expectations later on and realizing the kind of man he was … Well, of course! Still who knows, my dear friend’, she went on, pressing my hand, ‘who knows, perhaps all this love of mine was a figment of my imagination, perhaps it all began as a trivial piece of mischief, because I was under granny’s surveillance? Perhaps I ought to love another, not him, not a man like that, some other, who would have pity on me and, and … Well, enough of that’, she broke off, panting with agitation. 'I only wanted to tell you that… I meant to say, that if, despite the fact that I love him (no, loved him), if despite that, you still say … if you feel that your love is so great that it can eventually displace the former love in my heart… if you wish to take pity upon me, and do not mean to abandon me to my fate, without hope or consolation, if you mean to love me for ever the way you do now, then I swear that my gratitude … that my love will eventually be worthy of your own … Will you take my hand now?’ ‘Nastenka!’ I cried, choking with sobs. ‘Nastenka! … Ah, Nastenka! …' ‘Well, that’s enough, that’s enough now. Quite enough!’ she said, keeping her self-control with difficulty. 'Now everything’s been said, hasn’t it? Yes? And you’re happy and I’m happy; not another word about it; wait a while; spare me … Talk about something else, for pity’s sake!' … ‘Yes, Nastenka, I will! No more of this, now I’m happy, I … well, Nastenka, we’ll talk about something else, quickly now, quickly; right! I’m ready …’ And neither of us knew what to say, we laughed, we cried, we spoke a thousand inane, incoherent words; we walked along the pavement, then suddenly came back and set off across the street then came to a halt and re-crossed to the embankment; we were like children … (the girl behind the curtain is popping in now to let you know this bolded paragraph, in combination with the koutev bulgarian national ensemble's "Dumai, Zlato" made me begin crying so fiercly that it did not cease until long after i finished the book)

[...] 'So then, tomorrow you will be my lodger …’ ‘Yes and we’ll go and see The Barber of Seville, because it’s going to be on again soon.’ ‘Yes, we’ll do that’, said Nastenka, laughing. ‘No, best if we see something other than The Barber of Seville …’ ‘Well, all right, something else; of course that would be better, I just wasn’t thinking…’ So saying, we both walked along in a sort of daze, a fog, as if we didn’t know ourselves what was happening to us. We would stop and talk for ages on one spot, then we would set off again lord knows where, more laughter, more tears … Nastenka would suddenly want to go home and I didn’t venture to prevent her, intending to see her all the way home; we would set off and inside a quarter of an hour find ourselves on the embankment, near our bench. Now she would heave a sigh and tears would start from her eyes again; I would lose heart, feel a chill … But she squeezed my hand at once and tugged me off again to walk and chatter and talk …

‘Time I went home now; I think it’s very late’, said Nastenka at length. ‘Enough of such childish behaviour!’ 'Yes, Nastenka, though I’m sure I shan’t be able to get to sleep; I shan’t go home.’ ‘I don’t think I’ll get to sleep either, but see me to the house …’ ‘Of course I will!’ ‘But this time we’ll go all the way to our apartment.’ ‘Of course we will, of course …’ ‘Word of honour? Because I do have to get back home sometime!’ ‘Word of honour’, I replied, laughing … 'Let’s go then!’ ‘Let’s.' ‘Just look at that sky, Nastenka, just look! Tomorrow is going to be a wonderful day; the sky so blue, and what a moon! Look at that yellow cloud blotting it out, look, look! … No, it’s slipped by. Look, look there! …’ But Nastenka was not looking at the cloud, she was standing mutely rooted to the spot; a moment later she started pressing timidly against me. Her hand began to tremble in mine; I glanced at her … she pressed harder against me. At that moment, a young man walked past us. He came to an abrupt halt, gazed intently at us, then walked on a few paces. My heart quivered within me … ‘Nastenka’, I said in a low voice. ‘Who is it, Nastenka?’ 'It’s him!’ she whispered, pressing still closer and shaking against me … I could barely keep my feet. ‘Nastenka! Nastenka! It’s you!’ came a voice from behind us, and at that moment, the young man came several steps nearer… Lord, what a shriek she uttered! How she shuddered! She tore herself from my arms and went fluttering to meet him! … I stood and watched them, crushed. But she had scarcely given him her hand, scarcely flung herself into his arms, when she turned to me and was suddenly by my side, like lightning, like the wind, and before I could recollect myself, she put both arms round my neck and kissed me firmly and ardently. Then without saying a word, she ran to him again, took his arm, and tugged him along after her. I stood there for a long time, looking after them … Eventually they disappeared from view.

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frop · 7 years

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I GOT THE GO AHEAD TO TALK ABT KIRA from like. 3 different people so i Suppose i have to now

i didnt really have anything planned out so im just gonna toss shit out there. also bear with me bc its gonna start off abt his hand fetish fgjdkjghsf and i really truly thought i was gonna keep this semi professional but its just not possible considering who i am as a Person

ok but listen what i think would be the most interesting thing to learn about is How exactly he went about his first murder and how he felt leading up to it you know? bc presumably he started because whatever shit he was using before hand (ahaha) just wasnt gettin him off well enough anymore.

Actually we know how he did it, because reimi told koichi and rohan that irl urban legend of the murderer killing the victim’s dog and taking its place under the victim’s bed and licking their land to make the victim think the dog was still alive, WHICH ended up being how reimi was killed (and yes, i too, wanted to die when i realized that was kira under her bed licking her hand and making whimpering noises dfhdkghfh) But whats interesting to note is that reimi wears a choker with hands holding on to each other at the front and coincidentally one of kira’s first instincts when he’s not able to indulge in his urges is to choke the woman he would target, as seen when he first starts living in the kawajiri home with shinobu.

Ok so i said that he might have started killing bc he usual material just wasnt doing it for him anymore but this man had a da vinci artbook in his house during the events of diu so Clearly he had the mona lisa book marked or some shit. i didnt really have much else to say abt this honestly it was just an observation from the anime bc i dont know if it was in the manga too? anyway.

Actually now that im thinking about it i dont know if his first murder was to satisfy his fetish. current kira, of course, its all he does it for, but 17 year old kira? maybe, maybe not. i mean, reimi herself says at the end that he didnt take her hands afterwards so either his first wasnt for the satisfaction OR it was, and he was just so overwhelmed with the fact that he did manage to kill someone and he just didnt think to take them at the time.

It Has Now Been A Full Day Since I Last Touched This So Let’s Go

@ his nail habits: SO his dad says that ever since he was little, biting his nails until they were raw and bloody was the only way he could vent his frustrations. Frustrations abt what exactly? who knows, it could have been general anxiety since we know he doesnt like being in the spotlight (i might just projecting a little too hard) OR they could have been his murderous urges showing up from a very early age. current kira, however, was only ever shown to do it once and it was when he killed hayato so its definitely a way to cope with incredible stress too.

he started collecting his nail clippings the year he killed reimi and the “”official”” timeline puts it as right before he committed the murder. So it definitely has something to do with how he felt in the time leading up to it i just cant pull anything out my ass that could possibly connect the two lmao. Anyway i really do think that he picked up the habit of collecting his nail clippings as a substitute for gnawing them off every time he felt on edge. and then i guess he just started making these far fetched connections abt the length = his luck for the year/month? (i dont remember and its 1am idc) which, are almost as far fetched as all my connections too.

OH FUCK ok i really truly believe in my hopeless romantic of a heart that he started having feelings for shinobu. ofc his situation at the time made him immediately rationalize it as ‘oh nono im just trying to keep up impressions. it would be mighty suspicious if my wife happen to die on me’ WHICH, is a valid point. however notice how he acted when he thought he had the rest of his life perfectly protected, he got real cocky and gave shinobu a kiss on the cheek, part of it was 100% to spite hayato but i think the other part was him letting himself relax and kinda indulge in the Married Life™️️ shinokira is terrible bc its so domestic and tragic it hits all my weak points.

Can’t believe i almost forgot to mention the fact that kira was only 1 (one) year older than reimi and that its entirely possible that they went to highschool together, especially considering how small morioh’s population seems to be even during the events of diu. whats even more fucked is the fact that arnold was more or less reimi’s guard dog and yet.. he didnt bark or alert reimi to anything when kira invaded their home which might mean that reimi and kira were on at least good enough terms for arnold to be able to recognize him as friendly. Doubly fucked bc that means kira must have been targeting her for a good while and figured the best way to strike would be to gain her trust.

ok i dont think i have anything else to add unless i suddenly get like a massive influx of thoughts in the minutes it takes me to wrap this up.

IN CONCLUSION, kira yoshikage is awful and terrible and is easily the most interesting villain in my humblest of opinions and im glad i got a chance to finally unload all these thoughts that make absolutely no sense whatsoever when put together in an essay format.

also no offense but kira yoshikage is mixed bc naturally blond blue eyed fully japanese men are just not likely and considering who kira is as a person he would never go so far as to dye his hair lets be real

#I SWEAR TO GOD I MEANT FOR THIS TO BE NO MORE THAN A PARAGRAPH #I DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED #basic grammar rules? dont know her. hope yall enjoy run on sentences #i use essay Very Lightly #chitchats #yoshikage kira #for my own reference

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skunkes · 2 years

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hiii im going to do a rundown on Al's whole deal. Since its a general overview of him im going to try to keep brief. its still long! but a concise length instead of the extra rambling cheye loves if that makes sense. Not expecting anyone to read it all, bc its novel length, spaced out further for easier reading, but its Here for future ref for anybody inchersted. ^_^

↪️Trying to utilize oc text tag more ^_^

warning for brief mention of. non consensual acts. Assault. It's not glorified or graphically detailed. And even narratively, it is not treated...gratuitously?

There is a warning preceeding the paragraph that mentions it as well. ^_^

🐄 Al is a sort of stereotypical farm guy from TX (accent and all), his parents had him at a pretty young age and they love each other ^_^ Al very much has the "my mom/dad is my bff" relationship w them. They're also both very nice people. Al's dad also works at local flower shoppe and his mom is a carpenter/a local handyma'am. Theyd live in one of those smaller towns so wld be very involved w community, and wld sell and share any surplus of what they had on farm. Al is like. Early 30's currently, actually (like, Today). I keep trying to pause his age while i catch up to him but it jst keeps rising every year like i swear he'll be 40 next yr (JORK)

🌱 Al has always been a born caretaker, he likes taking care of things! He would be the first to offer to hold and babysit any new babies in his family, + liked playing house with baby dolls and/or the farm animals as a child. Heartbroken when he wasnt meant to have any siblings. He has always enjoyed the company of children, as a child and once he got older. He likes to take care of animals, he likes the process of nurturing plants to adulthood, he loves helping you when you are sick. Not only that but he likes talking things through with people and giving them advice. Very much Dad Friend.

🍎 Al was victim to one of those teachers that has it out for You Only as a child once he was growing more, and would sort of encourage ostracizing him in class. She'd often make unfounded comments about like. I bet this kid is going to be such a brute when he grows up!! Just look at how much taller and bigger he is than everyone already!!! Stay away from him lest he hurts you!! But more cruelly. Which really instilled a sort of Self Terror in his heart. Even now he's massively afraid of hurting others by accident even tho he's a grown ass adult. It's that sort of thing that sticks with you. Like my god Mrs. Whatever in 4th grade told everyone I was going to be an evil monster what if she's right. Al usually tells his parents everything but he never told them about this. Sadly he ends up not telling them about the most important stuff.

🏈 High school Al was still good and nice ^_^ bt things started getting sort of sucks for him around here. He was an avid sports player and was quite popular w people. He's. Not the best at choosing partners and it was around this time that people would sort of date him just to be the person dating that guy from the football team, without rlly caring about him. Status symbol. A trophy. It sort of drained him as he rlly would pour all of his romantic efforts onto each person fully, like Okay, THIS Will Be The Person I Marry One Day ^_^ not really grasping that they didn't actually Care about him as a person.

📚 This continues into college, I wish I cld go into the depths of HOW this all affected him but it gets a little more suggestive in nature so I can't, but he gets really desperate to have ANYBODY stay with him instead of constantly tossing him aside that he gains some bad habits in people pleasing, and loses a lot of self worth because he is a hopeless romantic, and wants somebody to be with. This is also where he copes with his feelings by overworking himself with studies as a distraction, so he loses friends and doesnt easily gain more, making it all worse with no real outside support. He'll tell his parents about new partners, but not the full picture so they cant help as much as they could if they knew. The full thing. They are very :/ about what he does tell them though

Content warning: Ok mention of assault is here, non graphic detailed, the emotional aftermath is. Al ends up with what is his worst partner, who constantly raises her voice at him and almost escalates to physical harm. She does put her hands on him at some point, and its infrequent and leaves him on edge all the time. He never leaves first in these situations bc he's been convinced it's all his fault, always (and he doesnt want to be. The brute his grade school teacher said he'd always become). She frequently invalidates his kindness and mistreats him. Like "stop smiling at me", breaking things he makes for her, ruining or throwing away his personal things, stomping on all his goodhearted intentions levels of cruelty.

Anyway, one night she forgoes his consent wrt intimacy and he freezes as it happens from the absolute shock of...consent being ignored like that and everything sort of plummets from there. He thinks its all his fault, and feels bad over...feeling bad about it. On top of feeling bad about it. Like he kicks himself for feeling bad about it when he could have easily just removed himself from the situation, being much taller and stronger than her (<- his unhealthy reasoning btw) and everything about it hurts him to think about. He feels stupid when it should be a non issue to him. (AGAIN... his warped reasoning not like the way i feel about it).

She leaves him soon after for his reaction to all this and verbally berates him for it so he's all alone again + in an even worse mental state than before. To this day he hasn't told his parents (+ didnt tell anybody back then either), because he's afraid they would also make fun of him and think it was a non issue when in reality they literally could have helped save him from further anguish. (He eventually does have an arc where he tells them and there's lots of crying). He's just constantly near tears over everything at this point. He doesn't understand why this happened or what's wrong with him that made somebody think he was a prime target for all of this.

(end of potentially triggering, touchy content)

⛈️ All anybody notices is that he starts to overwork himself in all aspects. When he graduates and gets a random diner job and he works as much as possible, in his free time he takes up odd jobs so that he can be working. He moves out from farm home so that he doesnt have to deal with the shame of literally All of It. All the failed connections he's had with other people, because it must mean He is a failed person and everyone must be able to sniff this out immediately.

He easily makes friends but cant sustain the relationships because he has to be working on something so he doesnt have to think about the mistreatment, or the ""assault"" (he doesnt treat it as something serious) or being alone, because what if he just finds someone else who treats him worse. He gets it now! He attracts people who will treat him badly. For some reason he's incapable of finding somebody who wont. And if he has nobody to take care of he has to focus that energy elsewhere to be worth anything to anyone. He works himself to unhealthy exhaustion. Always. Anything to not think about himself or any of it. Has a hard time maintaining his health around here bc he does not. Care. What happens to him. Talking to parents less and less, making them worry.

💘 (Suggestive in nature text incoming) he ends up actually having healthy!!! hook ups w ppl that enjoy his company and him as a person but he cant trust himself enough to pursue things further, thinking himself a omen of bad luck in love, further isolating.

⛅ He does eventually get past this \^_^/ and finds friends and people who help him take it easy and reassure him he is not worthless if he isn't working, that he can enjoy caring for others but its okay to be taken care of as well. He is very emotional still, and still gets very nervous about hurting others. He's very considerate to make extra sure he doesn't hurt others be it with his words or physically.

Like he wants to make sure nobody is treated the way he's been treated. He thinks he is a good person and is capable of being outwardly confident but he still struggles a lot with self worth after how he's been treated and tossed aside by very many people he thought cared about him. Despite him thinking he's had an easy life with 0 problems compared to everyone else the ppl who care ab him finally wrangle him into therapy for all this and he still struggles.

🎒 Also as things progress he realizes he would much rather be able to frequently help kids vs having any of his own, so he plans on going back and becoming some sort of grade school math teacher \^_^/ he is very good at math. Have not planned when this happens exactly. But its perfect for him, and it sort of heals him from his Bad Experience w Teacher as a child. Becomes the sort of teacher you still think about 20 yrs after but in the good way, as well as teacher who goes out of his way to help kids who are goinf thru difficult situations \^_^/ if one day i remove myself from his story i will write it in that he fosters/adopts children/teens with somebody he loves as well. ^_^

If you read all this THANK YU...sorry i write so much. Obvs al has other facets of personality and how he is as a person but this is more like. Loose backstory and hashtag plot or w.e. ^_^ i love my guyyy

#talkys #long post -#oc text

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

Text

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

#happy saileen day #dean winchester pov #i just wanted to write a nervous sam before walking down the aisle scene and it turned into an actual fic from dean's point of view so —#saileen wedding #sam winchester being sam winchester #eileen leahy #deancas #background destiel #bluefirecas #userpris #usersila #holmesemrys #tearsofgrace #userstarry #rambleoncas #userdori #oh writing my writing

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troubatrain · 3 years

Text

good for you - t. jost (part two)

a/n: apparently the only things i can finish are smut which is honestly on brand for me. this part is a bit of filler but to be fair this entire fic is smut with barely a plot so i meannnn but anyways, let me know how you guys like it :)

big shoutout to @hookingminor because nothing gets posted around here without ilyana fr fr

part one

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

So you fucked?

Mat was confused, posted up in his hotel room in Philly trying to navigate the bits of information he’d been getting out of you. You’d barely spoken to him all week, your classes were already killing you and you’d been missing the nightly Facetimes you promised when you moved. Mat thought there was another reason you were ignoring him, the evidence that you did the diry with Tyson was obvious. He was pretty sure you did, the mark on your neck wasn’t as hidden as you seemed to think it was, and you had a pep in your step that you only got after a good hook up.

“Yes Mat, we fucked,” You sigh, pressing your hands against the cool countertop and staring at Mat through your laptop screen, “This is your fault.”

“Oh it’s my fault two consenting adults had sex? Did he stay over?” Mat asks, trying to grab onto as many details as he could.

“No I kicked him out after a second round in the shower,” You admit, covering your eyes so you wouldn’t see the shit eating grin on your best friend’s face, “I kind of want to do it again.”

“Three’s the limit,” Mat reminds you of the golden rule of hook ups. You both came to the conclusion one day, if you fucked someone more than three times, you had more feelings than you realized and it was time to run or let yourself get hurt. Mat seemed to do just fine with it, and most of the time so did you, but Tyson was tempting you.

“Oh my god, he’s calling me,” You panic, Tyson’s contact flashing across your screen. Mat went to open his mouth, some sort of roast about how nervous you were would probably have followed if you hadn’t hung up on him. You waited for one more ring, not wanting to seem too eager to answer his calls, “Hi?”

“Hey,” Tyson drags out his greeting, pacing around his own apartment trying to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing. He wanted to see you again, clothing optional if he was being honest with himself, he just needed you to know somehow that you weren’t just a booty call, “What are you doing?”

“Drowning in homework already,” You whine, rolling your eyes at the chaos around you. The city has been jackhammering outside your place since the day you moved in, stalling you every time you tried to do anything.

“Everything alright?” Tyson asks, his voice was laced with concern by the crashes coming from your end of the phone.

“Yeah, sorry they’ve been doing construction outside since I moved in,” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your forehead, “I really need to get these done-”

“Bring your stuff over here,” Tyson blurts out, grabbing onto the opportunity to see you. He could handle hanging out while you studied, you were sort of friends before, how hard could it be?

“You want to spend time with me while I study?” You question, genuinely curious about what kind of dude you’re fucking wants to do nothing while you actually get some studying done.

“Yes Y/N, I want to spend time with you,” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head at your shock. Of course you didn’t do that with anyone hooked up with, but you’d never hooked up with anyone you knew outside of the bedroom either. Keeping both of those worlds separate kept your heart safe, “C’mon, I’ll even buy you dinner.”

Okay fine, I’m on my way.

***

This was much harder than Tyson thought.

It was easy at first, you came over a little while later and Tyson thought he could control himself. You settled on dinner a few minutes ago, and that’s when things went south. It was the pout, the way you looked at when Tyson said he wasn’t in the mood for sushi. You batted your eyes at him, a small pout on your face and the words Tys please following. Tyson was a goner, calling up for sushi almost immediately while you smirked at him for giving in so easily.

Now, Tyson was just watching you, and not even in a way you wouldn’t notice. Your nose was tucked into your notes, it’d scrunch up every once in a while and Tyson assumed that meant you got to something you didn’t want to deal with. Your cardigan had fallen down your shoulder, leaving a spot where Tyson’s lips could have just landed easily. Your feet were across his lap, Tyson’s large hands on your legs while his thumb rubbed along the fabric of your leggings. His hand was creeping up slowly, your lip between your teeth while you watched him, “Don’t get distracted princess.”

“You’re making that a little hard,” You whine, just as Tyson’s finger slid under the waistband on your pants, “Tys-”

“No keep reading,” Tyson reminds you, humming when you let his hands slide your leggings off. His lips pressed softly against your hips, your eyes far more focused on Tyson’s head between your thighs, “I’ll stop if you can’t focus.”

“Don’t do that,” You sigh, feeling Tyson’s smirk against your skin. Tyson chuckled, a finger sliding your panties to the side.

“This wet already huh? Physics must really get you going,” Tyson teases, glancing up at the book in your hands. His breath was hot against your core, “Smart and pretty is a dangerous combination princess.”

“So I’ve been told,” You let out a gasp, Tyson’s tongue lapping at your pussy slowly. Your hand fell from your book, pulling at Tyson’s curls. His mouth unlatched from your core, forcing you to let out a whine, “Tys that’s not fair.”

“I told you keep reading, can’t have you failing on my watch,” Tyson laughs, laying his head on your hips. He had you in the palm of his fucking hand, every bone in your body was on fire and you hated every second of it. The way you were whining for Tyson to touch you was uncharted terrority, a craving you couldn’t satisfy and it was going to get you into trouble. You focused on your work, a small hum came from Tyson before his finger slid up your folds, “Good girl.”

Your eyes were fixated on the words in front of you, retaining as much as you could while Tyson’s fingers were teasing your entrance. He was moving slowly, loving the way your body reacted to his touch in a way he could have only dreamed. One finger slid in, curling against your g-spot and pulling a moan out of you, “Fuck, I’m almost done-”

“Finish pretty girl, go ahead,” Tyson pushes, smirking to himself at your reaction. His mouth moved to your core, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking on it. Your breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling while you finished the last paragraph before you were seeing stars. You tossed your book on Tyson’s coffee table, throwing your head back and grabbing his hair.

“Faster, Tys, please,” You beg, your hips lifting off the couch. Tyson slipped in another finger, tongue working against your core. He fingered you through your orgasm, fingers moving lazily in and out of

you when you finally came down, “Tyson, holy shit.”

Since when was Tyson this cocky? His smile was smug when you finally met his eyes, the same sparkle in his eye from the first time

you fucked. You pressed your lips to his, grinding your hips against him, “Your turn.”

Tyson’s eyebrows raised, a wave of shock over his face while you lowered yourself off the couch. You weren’t going to let Tyson just get off with a smile that smug. If Tyson wanted to play that game, you

needed to remind who he was playing it with. Your fingers slipped under his sweats, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. Tyson’s hand ran through your hair, a finger tracing your jawline while his thumb ran across your bottom lip, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I’m aware,” You tease, licking the underside of his cock. You moved slowly, teasing him just as much he did to you. Tyson’s hands went to push your head down faster, so you pulled back with a smug smile that matched his, “No touching Tys.”

“C’mon, princess, that’s not fair,” Tyson’s hands flew back, a giggle falling through your lips at his whine. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, taking his length into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. Tyson groans, his hands balling up into fists to keep himself from touching you, “Fuck, your mouth babe-”

The echo from Tyson’s doorbell bounced through his apartment, reminding you both of the food you were supposed to be waiting for. You pulled away, a smirk on your face, “I think you need to get that.”

“You did that on purpose,” Tyson groans, collecting himself enough to open the door for your food. You waited patiently, watching the way Tyson snapped back into the incredibly kind man you’d always known. If he thought you were dangerous, then he was absolutely lethal with the way he could speak to you as filthy as he did and smile as kindly as he does to others. He closed the door, watching back over to the couch where you were still sitting in just your panties and a tank top, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Let’s get you fed babe, I’ve got plans for us.”

“Hm, how about you eat it off of me?”

“I swear Y/N, you’re never leaving this apartment.”

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Note

Epilogue for twice?

just for you, my dear!

pretty much just fluff but also implied smut and subtle breeding kink

"And so, the Soviet Army advanced through the Middle East and invaded Iran," Helmut continued, turning the page as he explained each step thoughtfully.

"Isn't he a little young for that?" you interjected, making your husband and son both turn as they realised you were leaning in the doorway.

"Never too young to learn," Helmut corrected proudly.

"Okay, well, he's eating the book, so..." you noted, making Helmut look back to where the toddler was, indeed, wrapping his mouth around the corner of the textbook in his father's lap.

"Hey, don't eat that!" Helmut scolded the little boy gently, trying to pull the book away-- but baby Heinrich reached up for it, tiny hands grasping for the pages as he started to fuss.

"He likes it!" you grinned.

"Clearly he has a taste for his father's work," Helmut frowned, relenting and letting the baby chew on the textbook, "but I didn't think it would be a literal taste."

"So the final version came in, then?" you extrapolated.

"Yeah, there are slobber-free copies in that box," Helmut explained with a tilt of his head in the direction of the box in question. You crossed the room to open it, admiring the cover of your husband's newest textbook-- you lifted the one on top to see the different versions beneath in various languages. "Apparently once I approve these, they'll start shipping out to the universities to assign for courses."

"Are you going to approve them?"

He laughed a little, stroking the thin hair on Heinrich's head as he happily chewed on the hardback cover. "Well, I was waiting for a second opinion."

You picked up the English copy and flipped it over to the back, smiling instantly at the small photograph of Helmut (one that you had taken, in fact) in the bottom corner next to his biography.

Helmut Zemo is a professor emeritus and Dean of the College of History at Novi Grad University, though he also tours Europe and the Americas to lecture on modern history and war tactics. His first textbook, Sokovian History, was taught in classrooms all over the world and is credited with reigniting a global interest in Sokovia and its heritage. He resides primarily in Novi Grad with his wife and newborn son.

Perhaps Heinrich wasn't quite a newborn anymore, since he was teething now, but he had been when that paragraph was written. "This bio is cute," you noted with a hum.

"Open it, there's an inscription as well," he nodded, and it made you wonder who he would dedicate his second book to since the first was dedicated to you. You had memorized it the second you saw it: "For my wife, who fell in love with me while taking my class. Students, study this book carefully: maybe the information inside will allow you to seduce the love of your life as well."

It still made you laugh and tear up simultaneously every time. But the new inscription made you a little confused.

For my son, Heinrich Zemo II.

"That's it?" you realised. "Nothing poignant or funny or cliched?"

"I spent more time trying to write that one little sentence than any of the chapters, believe it or not," he informed you. "Every time I tried to write something, it ended up too long. I had so much to say! I mean, how can you summarize what you want to say to your own child?"

You pondered that, appreciating that you would probably struggle with that task as well. "That's what you should say then," you decided. "Make that the inscription."

He looked down as he thought, absent-mindedly nodding. "That's... maybe that would work," he mumbled. "Would you take him for a moment?"

You leaned down and picked up Heinrich from Helmut's lap, balancing the baby on your hip and discarding the ruined textbook. Helmut grabbed a pen and opened one of the new copies of the book, scribbling something down while you bounced Heinrich around a bit to keep him entertained.

"Here, try this," Helmut encouraged, stepping back to let you read what he had added hastily.

For my son, Heinrich Zemo II. I could write a thousand textbooks with everything I would want you to know, and all the things I could say to you right now on my love for you. Or, I could write a thousand textbooks on the history of war and become the most celebrated historian ever known. Even then, you would still be my greatest accomplishment.

You sniffled, ignoring little hands tangling into your hair as you wiped a small tear from your cheek. "That's... really beautiful."

"I'll tell the editors that it needs one more final change," Helmut promised softly.

When you looked back at your husband, he had that smile on his face that made your heart soar every time. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, the three of you wrapped in one embrace together. "Thank you," he whispered.

"What for?" you asked, but you realised what he meant when he reached down to touch his son's head again and give him a kiss, too. "Oh, that," you chuckled, "yeah, any time."

He looked back to you instantly, a curious look in his eyes. "Do you mean that?" he asked softly.

"Huh?"

"Would you really have my child any time?" he repeated, and you grinned widely.

"Yeah," you nodded, watching him smile at you, too.

"Let's have the nanny entertain the boy for a while then, hm?" he smirked. "On the furthest wing of the house."

You laughed a bit, but he was clearly dead serious. "You want to get me pregnant again right now?"

"I don't see any reason to wait," he beamed. "We have so many more Zemo family names to go through! Hobart--"

"No."

"Herbert--"

"Hell no."

"Hademar--"

You scoffed. "I swear, sometimes I think you're making these up as you go. Next you're gonna say 'Hamburger.'"

"No, but I was going to say 'Hatpole,'" he admitted, "which I did, in fact, make up."

"And what if it's a girl?" you pressed. "Any Zemo family names to pass on?"

"What if it's a girl..." he pondered aloud. "Oh god, I take it all back, I want a girl. I want her to look like you. I want to dress her up in silly little outfits."

You laughed before he pulled you into a sudden kiss, soft at first but getting a little more heated with every move of his lips against yours. From your arms, Heinrich pawed at your faces and you both broke away to laugh.

"See? He wants a sister," Helmut explained. "Look at his sad little face, he's so lonely!"

The kid was smiling with his whole face, a few emerging teeth visible as he did it, but sure, 'sad'.

"I'll give him to the nanny and you can meet me in the bedroom, okay?" you offered, making Helmut smile and give you one more soft kiss on your cheek.

Of course, even knowing that he had a flair for the dramatic, you weren't expecting to find champagne and strawberries waiting for you in the bedroom, too.

"You're going all out with the seduction, huh?" you noticed with a smirk. "I'm not sure why you seem to think I need any convincing to sleep with you, lest you not recall how we'd only known each other a couple hours when I threw myself on you."

"Oh, I recall," he purred, pulling you into a hug as he started to gently kiss your neck. "But remind me?"

"I was so desperately in love with you, Helmut," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "From the beginning. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"Seems like you did," he laughed, "since you made your intentions quite clear that night in my office. You told me you were mine, while I was inside you... I knew then that you would either complete me, or break my heart."

You grabbed his face to make him kiss your lips this time, hungry with teeth and tongue and breathless moans as he carried you to bed.

#saturday night sleepover #not tagging anything cause this is gonna suck without the context of twice lol

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

if i find a way would you walk it with me

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: hmm a healthy mixture of fluff and angst, i think

notes: weeee set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe!! ever wonder how dabi’s apology to the reader goes??? how he ‘makes it up’ to her???? well here u go! bit of tomura at the beginning because i couldn’t help myself yikes!! -sigh- poor dabi <33 | title credit: star shopping by lil peep

warnings: uhhhhh one (1) mention of cum in that very first paragraph (nice) but other than that i think it’s all good??? OH oh + use of the word Daddy (u shouldn’t be surprised by this point lol)

words: 3.7k

synopsis:

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he says, and to the untrained ear his voice would sound flat and monotonous, maybe even rude, like he doesn’t give a fuck about the words tumbling from his lips. But you—you can hear it, the sheer honesty embedded in his tone, the rawness bleeding into his voice, the way it’s ever-so-slightly rougher around the edges than it normally is.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

It’s rare, nowadays, that you wake up to Tomura still at home. He’s sure to give you goodbye kisses every single morning before he leaves for work—kisses that last way longer than they should, kisses that are slow and messy, that manage to pull little mewls from you and leave you breathless, kisses that more often than not turn into your hands fisting in his dress shirt, little fingers playing with the buttons as you sleepily pull him closer, pleading in soft whimpers for him to fill you with cum before he goes—but he’s rarely still around by the time you actually wake up.

So, naturally, it startles you when you hear his voice, deep and gentle, murmuring that it’s time for you to wake up, princess, as slim fingers brush your hair away from your face, tracing along your cheek and jaw. Rolling onto your back quickly, your eyes snap open and you breathe out his name, heart pounding in excitement as you push yourself up onto your elbows, bleary gaze finding his.

Your near instantaneous reaction pulls a little chuckle from him, crimson eyes shining as they study your face, voice tender when he tells you that he finds your eagerness cute.

A pout settles on your lips briefly at his teasing, evaporating the moment your foggy brain realizes that he’s still home.

“Daddy! What’re you—A-Are you taking me to school today?” you gasp, sitting up a little straighter, a tiny glimmer of optimism in your eye.

And, God, the sheer, unadulterated hope on your face, eyes bright and as they search his, a tentative little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you anxiously await his answer…it breaks his heart to shake his head slowly—he swears it fucking cracks in his chest when your expression absolutely falls, makes it feel like his ribcage is caving in, yielding under the weight of the ache that settles deep at the very core of his body.

A large hand cups your face, calloused thumb caressing your cheekbone, your eyes closing briefly at the contact, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm.

“No, angel,” he tells you softly, a frown marring his lips. “I have a meeting this afternoon, and it was easier to take the morning off and work from home,”

It’s only partially a lie—he does have a meeting, some fancy lunch with pharmaceutical distributors interested in investing in the drug they’re currently developing—but the ‘work’ he’s doing from home would technically be more productive if done at his office.

Really, he’s worried about how things might go with Dabi. If things get worse, there’s a chance he might just bring you to the stupid lunch with him instead, university be damned.

But you—you can’t help the sudden onslaught of tears that spring into your eyes, emitting a quiet, hurt sound that you nearly choke on as your chest hitches with a tiny sob, head nodding jerkily. Tomura coos, forehead wrinkling in concern as large hands find your hips, pulling you onto his lap and cradling you to his chest.

You shouldn’t be this upset. You know you shouldn’t—not over Tomura not being able to take you to school, and not over Dabi’s sharp words from yesterday. No, Dabi’s words shouldn’t even matter to you, shouldn’t mean anything at all…so why does dread flood your body at the prospect of seeing him, of being stuck in a car with him for a good half hour, at least? Why does it feel like your heart’s turned to corrosive acid, eroding everything around it, when you consider if he actually meant what he said, if that’s how he truly feels?

“I don’t wanna see him, Daddy,” you mumble into his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the inexplicable fresh wave of tears the mere thought affords you.

“I know, baby,” Tomura says softly, fingers trailing up and down your spine. “I know,”

He doesn’t want to think about why Dabi’s words, that one simple sentence, have you so torn up.

Nor do you.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dabi arrives just as you’re finishing your breakfast, switching between fork and pen as you annotate a last-minute reading for school.

The entire atmosphere morphs the very instant he steps foot in the penthouse, and you swear you can almost see the tension in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wish Tomura were with you, have half a mind to hop up and run into his home office as you glance over at those thick mahogany doors with your lip caught between your teeth, but then Dabi’s heavy footsteps come to a halt, and your gaze snaps back to him.

He stops a few feet away, staring at you with those stupidly pretty sapphire eyes, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

His face used to be unreadable, but you’ve gotten better at deciphering his expressions, at decoding them to reveal fragments of his thoughts or mood, since you began spending more than eight hours a day with him.

So you know what it means when his jaw clenches twice (annoyed and dreading the interaction), when his front teeth nibble at the inner skin of his lip (unsure and nervous), when he readjusts his stance, nudging his feet just a little further apart (anticipating a verbal blow).

Placing your pen down on your textbook, you turn on your barstool to look at him fully, arms crossed over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

You steadily hold his gaze, and he briefly wonders if you’re expecting an apology, what Tomura told you about their discussion late last night, if Tomura told you about their discussion late last night.

“Hey,” he says, wincing at how gravelly his voice sounds and clearing his throat.

A beat of silence passes between you.

“Hi,”

“About yesterday…” he begins, eyebrows pushing together as he trails off, exhaling a harsh breath through his nostrils.

God, he fucking hates this. He hates that he spent most of the morning, the drive to and from going to get your apology gift, rehearsing what he was going to say, hates that it completely vanishes from his mind the moment he sees you, glaring at him in expectation or apprehension—he’s not sure, he can’t tell.

He hates that this is stupidly difficult—definitely more difficult than throwing an apology and gift at you should be—can’t fucking stand the incomprehensible feelings swirling around in his chest, the ones that make him feel like he’s inhaling smoke, choking on air, like he can’t manage to get enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how deeply he inhales.

He swallows, throat dry and scratchy, runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, and tries again.

“About yesterday,” he repeats, more sternly this time. “That was—I probably shouldn’t have said that,”

And the face you make as the word probably leaves his lips—features crumpling and contorting, your mask of passivity disintegrating to reveal pained eyes and a little pout—has him quickly backtracking before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Definitely—I definitely shouldn’t have said that,” his chest heaves with the force of a heavy sigh, raking a hand aggressively through his hair. “I didn’t mean it. I, uh, I promise,” his eyes bore into yours, his stare so intense it takes everything in your power not to look away.

It’s unsettling in the very least, to hear him this unsure of himself. You think you might even be able to detect the smallest hint of a tremble to his voice, but it only seems to be audible on certain words.

It makes your heart ache in the most inexplicable way, bottom lip jutting out further as your pout deepens. Really, you think you should still be furious at him. Really, you wish you were. You shouldn’t be feeling sympathy for him, not after the way he’s treated you the past few weeks. You shouldn’t have to resist the urge to run to him, to take his face between your hands and tell him that it’s alright, it’s fine, you forgive him—anything just to stop the way his voice quivers ever-so-slightly on the word promise, anything to eradicate the melancholy in his eyes.

“Look—what I’m trying to say, I guess, is—”

The tiniest, softest little mewl sounds from his jacket and he looks down sharply, scowling at it. Eyebrows knitting, you laugh a little, head quirking to the side in confusion.

“Do you…Do you have a cat in your jacket, or something?”

Dabi sighs, shaking his head and murmuring something about how this was totally not your cue, furball as he holds his worn leather jacket open, revealing a small kitten stuffed into one of the inner pockets. He fishes it out gently—it’s so tiny that it fits in the palm of his hand—and holds it out to you, a peace offering.

You blink rapidly, shaking your head in disbelief with an odd little smile on your face. “Is it—Is it for m-me?”

Dabi rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his face. “Of course, stupid,”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips as you jump up, rushing forward to take the kitten from him and cradling it to your chest, cooing softly. Dabi thinks it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen, entirely powerless to stop the tender look that settles in his eyes as he observes you.

A thick, silky red ribbon tied in a large obnoxious bow adorns the kitten’s neck, a small tag attached to it with Dabi’s messy handwriting scrawled across it: I’m sorry for being an asshole. It’s fucking cheesy, cliché as hell, and you love every single thing about it.

“It’s uh, a Maine Coon, I think,” Dabi shrugs a little, hand rubbing at the back of his neck unsurely as his eyes dart away. “I paid a fucking fortune for him,” he says with a small self-deprecating smirk. “Three times the goddamn regular price,”

Your head snaps up, wide eyes finding his as the kitten gnaws on one of the drawstrings of your—Tomura’s—hoodie. “What?”

He shifts a little under your intense gaze. “Well, yeah, he technically belonged to someone else. Y’know how with those fancy breeders you gotta fill out those massive application forms and then wait for like, two years and all that bullshit,” he waves a hand in explanation as his voice trails off.

“Y-You paid six thousand dollars for this cat?”

“Just over,” he nods. “Plus a forty-five minute argument with the breeder, all for that damn furball, so you better fucking appreciate him, cause that guy was a jackass,”

Silence blankets the room again. You’re looking at him weirdly, and it’s starting to make his skin crawl, anxiety beginning to rise in his throat as he stares back at you, subconsciously holding his breath. Are you still angry? Do you not like the cat, was it the wrong breed? It was a cat you wanted, wasn’t it? Was this too stupid? Was it too much? Was it not enough? Tomura’s frequent yet random gifts are hard to compete with, but, fuck, he tried his best. He wanted to get you something that he knew you really wanted—he could’ve sworn he’s heard you go off on a tangent about how much you love cats, how you’ve never been allowed to have one before, at least three times in the short time he’s known you. He considered getting you the standard luxury shit women are ‘supposed’ to like, or whatever—he isn’t really into that gendered bullshit—but Tomura spoils you with these things so often and, well, they didn’t really feel like an apology.

Tingles flood your veins, feeling like sparks are coursing through your entire body, the thought of someone doing something so—so considerate making you feel giddy at first, then guilty. How could you not believe him, not believe his apology is sincere, when this gift proves to you just how attentive he actually is? That he doesn’t simply tune out your mindless rambling as he drives you to school, or when he lets you rest your head against his thigh after a long day? You’ve lamented to Dabi countless times about how you’ve always wanted a kitten—a Maine Coon in particular—and, knowing it’s the one thing Tomura hasn’t gotten for you, wouldn’t get for you…

Hastily placing the kitten on the island, you leap up, moving so quick he barely has time to register what the hell’s going on before you barrel straight into him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. The force of your unexpected hug causes him to stumble back a few steps, knocking a soft “Oof,” out of him.

His body freezes as you press up against him—you’ve never been this close before. A hand slides up his neck and into the hair at the base of his scalp—an automatic reaction, something you’re so used to doing with Tomura that it’s become second nature now. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.

But Dabi does.

Your touch burns, fingertips searing into his flesh in the most exquisite way, has him instantly craving more as his head droops just a little further, allowing you more access to move, your fingers instinctively combing through the soft, inky hair at the back of his skull. He wants to feel your touch all over his body, branded into his skin. Hours from now, he’ll still be able to feel it, still be able to feel the scorching warmth from your little hands scathing his flesh, still be able to feel your little fingers tangling in his hair.

Your sweet scent invades the space around him, overwhelms his senses, and he idly wonders if you taste as sweet as you smell, if the rest of your skin, your body, would feel as scalding as your hands do against his bare skin, if—

You squeeze yourself closer, body pressed flush against his, and his mind finally snaps into action, recovering from his initial shock and wrapping both arms around your waist, responding to your squeeze with one of his own.

“Thank you so much, Dabi,” you whisper, lips grazing his neck as you speak, an involuntary shiver coursing through his body. “I already love him,”

“Am I forgiven, princess?” his voice is low, rumbling in his chest and reverberating off of yours, chin resting atop your head.

A pause.

“Yeah,” you nod, eyelashes fluttering a little on his skin. “I—I’m sorry, too,”

“You don’t—”

“No,” you cut him off softly, and he can feel you nuzzling your face against him shyly, his arms squeezing you again in silent encouragement. “I overreacted. I just, um,” you stop, swallowing thickly as you struggle with the words. “I—We were making progress; or at least, I thought we were making progress—What I mean is, I just want t-to be friends with you,” you admit quietly, thankful that your face is buried in his chest, hiding your burning cheeks from his eyes.

He doesn’t respond—not with words, anyway. He doesn’t need to—his actions speak louder than words ever could. Lips press against the crown of your head, first gently, then firm, scattering a few kisses across your scalp.

The kitten knocks your pen off the island, it’s clattering against the hardwood startling the two of you, and you reluctantly break apart. He thinks it should be awkward—No, it should definitely be awkward, when he just dropped several unwarranted kisses to the crown of your head—but it isn’t. He waits for it to come, surprised when all that seems to remain is that same pleasant warmth as he watches you scold the kitten playfully, bending down to pick up the pen and gently tapping it against the kittens nose.

Your giggles, ringing out around the empty penthouse, are the most precious sounds he’s ever witnessed. Thoughts invade his mind, belatedly realizing that he’d do just about anything to hear you giggle like that again, soft and innocent and full of delight. The unfamiliar feeling of contentment settles in his chest, makes it swell so much it’s almost painful, thrumming through his veins and alighting his body.

Later, he’ll be pissed at himself for letting his guard down so easily, for completely losing control of his thoughts and actions, for becoming so fucking soft around you. But for now, he allows himself to bask in the feeling, just for a few moments before those heavy mahogany doors inevitably creak open.

“What should we name him?” your eyes are bright as you back at him, a cute excited smile on your face, lashes fluttering a little as you wait for his answer.

We. We.

And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at that one, tiny two letter word. He hates the way it makes his stomach swoop, makes more unknown feelings—sensations he’s never experienced before—explode in his chest, hates the way that stupid little word pulls a large, genuine smile from him entirely without his permission, a chuckle of disbelief passing through his lips.

We.

“I dunno, princess,” he responds gruffly, finally finding his voice.

“How about…” you stop, humming and closing an eye as you think, little tongue poking at your cheek in concentration.

Dabi isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more adorable sight in his entire life, and he has to physically restrain himself from marching right up to you and kissing you until you can’t fucking breathe, heels digging into the hardwood and hands curling into trembling fists as his body goes rigid.

“Isaac? Or, oh! Clarke?”

Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke, two of his favourite authors.

And, fuck, he can’t help the hearty laugh that bubbles up in his chest at the realization, pleasant tingles of warmth shooting through his veins again—more intensely this time, feeling like tiny shocks bursting throughout his body, his whole figure buzzing, high off your presence.

“Both are cute,”

“Yeah, but do you have a favourite?”

Later, he’ll lay awake in bed tonight, sheets cold and empty as he listens to the muffled sounds of Tomura’s ridiculously massive bed slamming against the wall while he forces the most beautiful sounds from your lips—later, Dabi will think about that sentence, those seven words, uttered so gently, so sincerely from your soft lips as you stared at him in earnest, genuinely interested in his answer. Later, he’ll think about why his opinion matters so much to you—if his opinion matters to you, or if he’s just desperately hoping it does, if he’s overthinking this entire situation, why the name of a dumb overpriced cat matters this much to him…

“I like Isaac,”

Your eyes soften, smile stretching even wider as your gaze flits to the tiny fluff ball now curled in your lap, small hand petting its head gently as it begins to fall asleep.

“Yeah,” you murmur, watching your hand’s rhythmic motions, the kitten beginning to purr loudly. “I like Isaac, too,”

Tomura reemerges then, both of your gazes snapping towards him. He observes the two of you, scarlet eyes slow and careful as they scan the situation, finally landing on the small ball of fur sleeping soundly on your thighs. There’s an odd look in his eyes—something you’ve never quite seen before, and it makes your heart drop.

“Look, Daddy,” you say softly, holding up the sleepy kitten to show him. “Dabi got me a kitty!”

The weird, undecipherable look on Tomura’s face evaporates in an instant as his eyes connect with yours, features softening.

“That’s great, baby,” he says as he walks towards you, coming to stand behind you and placing a large hand on your head. You hum a little, eyes closing at the contact. “Looks like we’ll have to go out tonight and get kitty supplies, huh,”

Eyes snapping open, your head falls back, resting against his stomach as you stare up at him. “Me and you? Just us?” he nods, and you gasp, face absolutely lighting up. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughs a little, fondness settling in his eyes as he gazes down at you. “I’ll pick you up after class today, and we’ll go straight away. We can’t let poor Isaac go hungry now, can we?” Ruby eyes flit up as he speaks, hardening as they connect with sapphire. He holds Dabi’s gaze until the other man nods his understanding.

You’re so excited you don’t even realize you never told Tomura the kitten’s name. But it doesn’t matter—not in that moment, anyway, not when he tells you he’s decided to take the rest of the day off after the lunch meeting, to spend it with his baby and his baby’s baby. Not when you haven’t had a night alone with him in what feels like forever.

Tomura should be happy that it all worked out, right? He should be glad that he doesn’t have to find other arrangements, should feel relieved that you and Dabi smoothed things over, shouldn’t he? He is, isn’t he?

“Go get your schoolbag, sweetheart,” he instructs softly, tapping you on the nose. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon,”

You obey immediately, slipping off the barstool with the kitten cradled in your arms, explaining that you’re going to quickly ‘kitten-proof’ Tomura’s absurdly large bathroom and lock Isaac in there. For his own safety while you’re away at school, you say.

He watches you go, waits for you to disappear around the corner, before turning back to his colleague.

“Really Dabi, a fucking cat?”

Dabi bristles, exhaling slowly as he holds his boss’s gaze, and raises his eyebrows. “But she’s happy, isn’t she?”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #dabi #shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #for my lil star anon!!! <3333 #i hope u like it!#tw daddy kink #i ??? guess???

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