010101sblog

[sc0rpi0suntaurusm00n]

⌑˙•Astro observations ꨄ

Hi guys, it's been a while, oh boy... I have been super busy with school and life, and EVERYTHING!!! But I am back - and here are some things I have noticed lately ~~~

Virgo placements can come from very lovely family dynamic or the lack thereof and they might have this 'I am better than everyone' air about them because they have self taught themselves or were self made often times, and they are usually blessed with good abilities in certain areas due to genetics but still think they are just better and wonder why others aren't Just Better. Often seems like they are like this when underdeveloped and immature, but later they learn to be more humble and less judgy.

Cancer placements often want to please their parents really badly or want to be like a parental figure they admire when young.

Most Aquarius Venus ppl can be very picky with who they let around them, and although they are usually quite a social sign they often have introvert tendencies in their free time and might have a lot of friends but only don't ghost two people who they like.

➥ Fixed signs are often quite intentional with whom they are around and why, we don't generally have to be around only people we agree with but we can be sure of who we want to be around, remind me of the quote "you are the combination of the 5 people you hang out with"

Taurus Mars being in detriment has it's benefits can make really good athletes especially in track or other sports that take perseverance and the slow pace they take to begin which they maintain well and finally finish strong. These individuals are very strong willed when it comes to their passions, and they have incredible ardor if you can bring it out of them. *might even be slow walkers*

Compared to Aries Mars or Scorpio Mars, Taurus Mars often has the perseverance and will-power to continue by saving energy, meanwhile it's counterparts are more Willy nilly with their passion and might have a lot of vibrancy but use it in many endeavors and tire themselves out. Such as wasting energy on hatred or overdoing it at times and getting into arguments often, however these more auspicious placements often have a vibrant inner world and a spark for life that is hard to not notice.

Scorpio/8th house/Pluto 1st house are often intriguing to others for their aura of secrecy that when you get to know them it turns out they are just normal people and they often have a very normal life usually - either that or they have had a lot of death and have aquired many benefits through gained wealth, there is really no in-between.

Pisces placements are the types to either make a lot of crude remarks (Gemini influence) or they don't know what they want (Pisces Mars) or they make a lot of complaints about their appearance or personality as jokes (self deprecating humor), the women on the other hand are just lovely people even when underdeveloped, though might struggle with people pleasing when young. They can be very blessed spiritually (under Jupiter rulership) like they often get a lot of help from family when moving out or going to college, either too much enabling or not a lot of support when they leave, generally no in between. Either the perfect environment for becoming a druggy artist or they have amazing loving parents who give them many opportunities for success, depends on whether their parents are very nurturing or not, these individuals need to be protected at all costs, innocent and loving individuals.

Thank you for reading 📖❤

© Oct 2024 sc0rpi0suntaurusm00n

[ksrw2]

for the drawing requests: p1 dude and not important? nottem wants to hang out with his idol and dude's just sick of him lol

Bro has another reason to not go outside

[fictionalmenmistress]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, so I wanted to share that Logan's rant monologue insulting Wade in the Honda Odyssey, before Wade decides to beat him up and they ~fight~ all night... that so clearly to me, was Logan projecting. It started as a tempered rant to cope with how annoyed and pent up he was, with the heat of everything and with Wade's muchness that makes him, him, but the longer he went on, the more he started ranting and exposing himself in the process.

"THE XMEN REJECTED YOU, AND THEY'LL TAKE FUCKING ANYONE!!!" That was my first hit, that he was referring to himself. He sees himself so lowly, so failed, that's canonical to the film. And canonically, he didn't even quite originally feel worthy or want to be with the XMEN. Didn't feel like there was a place for him there, a place for him anywhere. One of his biggest healings was Professor X not giving up on helping him believe that he deserved to be there, was wanted, was worthy, was a good guy. That's canon to his character. So we know he was speaking about himself. He was chewing Wade out, but he was also talking and focusing moreso on what upset him about himself. (He sees himself as just any jo shmo, when he IS literally THE X MAN ㅠㅠ)

He was seeing himself in Wade, how he "can't even save a relationship with a gd stripper", (he sees himself as not able to save anything either, and he's angry for that more than anything else he's angry or annoyed at) projecting SO HARD as he pieced together saying it out loud, that Wade was exactly like him. Logan hated himself for not saving anything. For being a "loser", a "failure", for all of the same reasons he was lashing out at Wade for. He was so angry and annoyed by Wade reminding him of himself, because he related to him. Wade was his reflection, in his eyes, calling him out so loudly with his own behaviors. And he hated himself. He deeply was suffering with that hatred for himself, and as a result, he lashed out on Wade when really he was chewing out himself, inside, admitting it.

"God's CRUELEST JOKE, IS THAT YOU *WONT* DIE ALONE. BECAUSE YOU! CANT! DIE! SO THE REST OF US HAVE TO SUFFER YOU THE REST OF OUR EXISTENCE!" (something along that.)

He didn't know for sure that Wade can't die. He picked up on that Wade can't be killed. Logan is the one who can't die. They are two flipped sides of the same immortal power coin. When he finished his screaming at him, and everyone was silent at how cruel and shocking the confrontation and his words were, I was sinking with a very empathetically whispered "oh, Logan..." Because I felt his misery. I immediately picked up on him really talking about himself, and I think that was genius and layered. I was upset for how awful that was to say to Wade, heartbroken for Wade taking that to heart, and I was heartbroken that Logan was saying that because he believes that about himself. Because they are, oddly, a lot alike. Very compatible.

This scene here:

I read that Hugh said that Ryan wrote that. He's brilliant with these films. It was so genius. I really needed to share this and bring this thought, meta, analysis to light. For all of us to have.

Is Logan mad at God's "cruel joke" of his immortality, yet ability to feel so much pain through it still? Yes. He punched the roof in rage, because it's not fair. Venting his own pain. He sees his powers, his own and Wade's too, empathetically, as their curse. The curse of being the one who lives, and the guilt with that. The one who can't die. The one who lives, who is forced to live, while everyone who "deserves to live" dies. And WILL die, around them.

"And You can't die. That's on all of US!" Logan says, clearly referring to himself living forever... And "us" being the people HE loved. He saw himself as a burden for existing with them, for them. He deflected that onto Wade, as if the people in Wade's life must feel that way too, but didn't really mean that. He meant it about himself. Logan believes he was a burden on the people he loves, the people he lost. That's probably why he left too, and didn't come back when they called out for him to. He distanced himself to protect them, and protect himself from that fear of rejection that he feels is so imminent, and them not having him, is the one element that led to none of them surviving without him. He was always the key. He was always wanted, and he was always important and needed. He just couldn't ever believe that.

Man, that's why it became so personal for Logan too, when he was shown Wade's photograph of his family. Because HE had a family, and he would do anything now to save them. Just like Wade. He held that photograph all night, he went and got it when it fell out of the car, he kept looking at it. It became personal for him, when he identified with it. That Honda scene really was their turning point of everything. That's when Logan cared with everything. He got it. Wade is the him he couldn't be. But now he can.

I dropped some heat with this one.

Extra little personal context/thought notes: Maybe I just spotted it because I have a natural knack for psychology, I'm hyperobservant, highly empathetic and deeply feeling, and I'm also years experienced of my parents and whole family treating me the same exact toxic lashout way almost every other day. That's a workweek for me to see through toxic lashout anger BS. These are not my gifs!!! They were created by another amazing account. I will refind their @ and tag them!! >>> It's @landoslastnerve ! Thank you friend! 🤍

Also wanted to include someone's tags from those gifs:

.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! could I request Argenti, Boothill and Jing Yuan when someone tries to flirt with their s/o? I absolutely adore your writing btw!! Hope you're doing good!!

Boothill

Has a bullet with their name written on it and it was in times like theses where he wishes his shit hadn’t been tampered with, just so he could curse the bastard out for merely brushing shoulders either you.

Words such as:

Mother fudger

Heck

And Gosh darn it

Weren’t exactly going to scare the person flirting with you off with their tail between their legs but threatening to shot them would. However after the person had scampered off, Boothill would be subjected to you scolding him about threatening people for simply flirting with you, when there were other ways to do so without the inclusion of unnecessary violence.

Boothill can’t help it! He hates it when people flirt with his darling and he isn’t one for sharing you either, he’d much rather hog all of your time and attention for himself! You were his partner! Not everyone else’s!

‘Boothill.’ You said warningly.

‘What?’ He said as he tugged you into his side, keeping his arm at your waist possessively. ‘He was getting a little too cosy and I had to remind that fudging idiot to keep his hands to himself.’ He adds with a smirk, stealing a kiss from your lips.

His jealously stems from his own hatred towards his metal body, you could find someone else who could feel you in your entirety beyond from their face and head, unlike him.

‘I get that and I thank you for running them off, but you know you don’t have to worry about me looking at anyone else.’ You reassured him as you held his face in your hands and watched as his smile falters and his featured relaxed into your touch. ‘You’re all I want, you’re all i’ll ever need regardless of your inability to physically feel.’ You then pressed your forehead against his, feeling him push himself further against you in a selfish need to feel you. ‘You’re my handsome, handsome cowboy.’ You whispered.

‘I am your handsome, handsome cowboy.’ He muttered under his breath.

Argenti

He’s not jealous in the slightest.

He’s the most trusting in the strength of your relationship and you to even allow for an ounce of doubt to permeate his thoughts.

If anything he’d agree with everything the person was saying about you while adding onto it, making the person feel as though their attempts at flirting with you were useless, especially when the cherry haired knight beside you was casually waxing poetry on your ethereal beauty.

‘Indeed they are a beauty to behold indeed.’ He’d say as he knelt before you and held your hands in his all the while making sure his eyes remained glued on you as he spoke. ‘I’d kneel before their alter for the rest of eternity if it meant achieving the impossible and catching their gaze, they truly are my reason for breathing, the reason I see beauty whenever I travel, as they are the true beauty I have been seeking for my whole life.’ He finishes by kissing the back of your hands softly, his thumbs caressing the skin there as though they were porcelain.

The person who was flirting with you left not long after because how could they compare with that?!

All they said was that you were cute and Argenti took that and made you come across as though you were a deity lost to time, finally having been found after so long.

They knew they couldn’t win and left for easier people to pull their mediocre pick up lines on.

Argenti is your Gomez, you are his Morticia. There was no one getting between you two because the love you had was stronger than most.

Jealousy doesn’t exist when you actually trust someone whom you claim is half of your own soul.

Jing yuan

He finds the face they make upon realising who’s s/o they’ve been flirting with particularly funny to be even remotely jealous.

Not to say that he doesn’t get jealous, he does but it’s not nearly as evident. He’s self assured in his relationship with you that he didn’t even think of the person flirting with you as a threat even in the slightest.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your riveting conversation but I’d like my partner back now.’ He’d say as he stood behind the person flirting with you.

‘Look buddy I found them,’ the person looked behind them, and upon realising who was behind them, the words of annoyance were quickly discarded as they could only stare at a smiling Jing Yuan, ‘first…’

Jing yuan raised his brows as the Cheshire smile on his lips only grew at the evident regret across their face. ‘Hmmm? Cat got your tongue? You seem a bit pale, maybe you should go sit down and rest.’ He suggested and watched in amusement as the person didn’t fight back, but instead wordlessly followed his instruction and walked away for you both to go somewhere else.

‘You’re having too much fun with this.’ You’d tell Jing Yuan as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the establishment.

‘What can I say, their expressions may be the same every time but that doesn’t stop them from being more humorous than the last.’ He replies with a chuckle as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. ‘However I cannot blame them for finding you as appealing as I do if they’re so desperate as to flirt for your attention.’ He adds and you huff and crossed your arms. ‘As if you were any different.’

Jing yuan raised his brows, silently telling you to continue.

‘When you wanted my attention, you would sit next to me and rest your head on my shoulder before falling asleep.’ You added and Jing yuan chuckles. ‘I didn’t-‘

‘All. The. Time.’ You cut him off, emphasising each word that left your mouth. ‘Yangqing told me that you only did that to me, no one else got that special treatment from the all mighty general.’ You smirked at Jing Yuan who muttered a soft ‘Yangqing.’ under his breath as you held onto his side. ‘It doesn’t matter now because I thought it was extremely cute.’ You reassured him with a kiss to the cheek as you both walked home, tucked closely against one another, the events that happened prior having completely been forgotten as you reminisced the past.

[requiemforthepoets]

he drives me crazy, it’s so beyond me 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

SUMMARY: you’ve been hating on lando for a very long time now, since you were kids to be exact. only to realize that those hatred is only a mask for what you truly feel for him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’ve been on a slump lately, have so many works unfinished but i don’t really have the drive to finish them lol but my break from uni is near, so maybe i’ll get the motivation to finish all of it. for the meantime, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: typos, cursing, and playboy lando

Growing up being Max’s younger sister meant that you were always surrounded by his friends, and none of them irritated you more than Lando Norris. From the very beginning, something about Lando rubbed you off the wrong way. Though you had never understood why, there was something—an inexplicable annoyance that only grew stronger with time.

As kids, you tolerated him, well mainly because Max adored him and that they are racing karts together. You can’t just tell Max to stay away from Lando for no apparent reason, that would make look like an absolute ass. But as you all grew up, Lando’s behavior began to infuriate you even more, and it just got worse when he got to F1. He began dating girls and moving on as quickly as the seasons changed, never seeming to care about the trail of broken hearts he left behind. It wasn’t just his carefree attitude towards relationships or life in general; it was the way he would tease you every fucking chance he gets. If you tripped over a pebble or on air, he’d make a joke about it. Making fun of every little thing that he would notice about you. You just couldn’t stand it, and you couldn’t stand him and his whole existence.

But somewhere along the line, something strange started to happen. With all the teasing and eye rolls, you found yourself paying a little too much attention to him. Too much for your liking. It was almost as if you were noticing the first time how his aquamarine eyes sparkled everytime he laughed, or how his curly hair seemed to suit him perfectly. It made you mad—so fucking mad that you wanted to scream. How could you, of all people, start to like Lando Norris? Your public enemy number one.

Then the realization hit you like a shit ton of bricks. You were developing a massive crush on the one person you were supposed to hate. Surprised by the sudden realization, and you being you, instead of acknowledging it, you decided to bury it deep down, covering it with even more layers of loathing. If he said something stupid, which he always does, you’d snap back at him twice as hard. If he smiled that cocky grin, you’d glare daggers at him. But inside, your heart would be pounding, and it drove you crazy. It’s pretty much a fucking miracle that you have been able to stay sane.

One day, after a particularly annoying comment from Lando about your choice of outfit, you finally snapped. “You know, Lando, if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it. But I didn’t, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?” Then you rolled his eyes at him. You’re going out today, you don’t need this kind of negativity. “Besides, don’t you have your own fucking house? Why are you even here?”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying how riled up you were. “I’m just saying, those shoes look like something a hobo would wear.”

You groaned in frustration. “God, you’re such an asshole, Norris! Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He shot back, winking at you.

You felt your cheeks flush, and not from anger. You wanted to punch him, but at the same time, there was this insane urge to grab him by the collar and kiss him just to shut him up. But instead, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, muttering under your breath about how he was the most annoying person on the planet.

But then there were those moments when you saw the other side of Lando, the one that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t even fucking explain. Like the time when he won his first race in Miami. The whole crowd erupted in cheers, everyone was celebrating his win and you found yourself smiling as he won his first race, a huge smile on his face as he celebrated. Your first instinct was to run up to him and give him a hug and tell him how proud you were. But then, almost immediately, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck for making you feel this way. He had a unique talent for pushing all your buttons, and yet, no one could make you feel the way he did.

After the race, you all went out to celebrate, and as usual, Lando couldn’t resist teasing you. “Come on, admit it, you were impressed, weren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. “You were okay, I guess,” you said nonchalantly.

“Okay? Just okay?” Lando feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “I expected more from my biggest hater.”

“Well, don’t expect me to start fangirling over you now,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Lando just playfully winked at you, and excused himself, walking away and waving at someone else. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to admit it. To finally confess that maybe the reason why you hated Lando so much was because you love him in a way that no one else could. But you quickly dismissed that thought, shaking your head. There was no way you’d ever let him know how much he affected you. Not when he had the power to break your heart with a single word.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was the center of attention, as always, and yet, for a moment, his eyes caught yours, and he smiled. Not a teasing grin that he would always send your way, but a genuine, warm smile. It made your stomach do flips, and you quickly looked away, mentally cursing yourself for being so weak.

In the middle of the night, you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in your mind. You hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he made you feel things you didn’t want to feel. It was maddening, infuriating, it drives you nuts, and yet…you couldn’t stop thinking about him. How was it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? You didn’t know. You don’t have an answer for the lingering questions in your mind and it drove you crazy.

“Why him?” You whispered to yourself that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. “Out of all the fucking people in the world, why does it have to be him?”

You knew Lando could be a major asshole, but somehow, he was your asshole. No one else could make you feel this crazy mix of anger, frustration, and affection all at once, and despite all the annoyance, deep down, you knew you loved him. It made you mad, and yet, in some twisted way, it also made sense. No one else could make your heart race like Lando did, that can make you feel so alive, so frustrated, so utterly confused—and most importantly, no else could break your heart like Lando Norris, and you were beginning to think that maybe, you didn’t want anyone else to.

It has been three months since Lando’s first win, but the tension between the two of you hadn’t eased. In fact, it felt like it was growing stronger, pulling you into a confusing spiral of emotions. It was one of those days that you were grateful enough that you were back in uni, and have to forget about him even for a short period of time.

Though it didn’t last long, you can’t stay and hide in uni forever. So here you were, officially back home for a break, and you decided to stay at Max’s for the time being. Prior to arriving from uni, Max had already asked you if you wanted to come with them on their holiday trip, but you passed on it, making up some silly excuse and wanting to get the rest you need since you haven’t had the proper rest back when you were in uni. You wanted to avoid being in the same place with him as much as possible, you definitely don’t trust yourself to keep up the charade of hating him when your heart was screaming the exact opposite.

It was when they’re already back from their trip, and as usual, Lando is at Max’s place. You found yourself in exactly in the situation you’d been dreading. Max had invited Lando over to help him with something, and you figured you could just stay in your room, far away from the inevitable teasing from him. But when Max suddenly had to leave to deal with some urgent matter, you were stuck. It was just you and Lando, alone in the living room, with a show neither of you cared about playing in the background.

Lando being Lando, of course he wasted no time in getting into your nerves. “So, how long are you planning to hide up there?” He asked, his tone annoyingly casual as he sprawled out on the couch.

“I was not hiding,” you retorted, focusing on your phone and pretending he wasn’t there.

“Sure, you’re not,” he said with a smirk. “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately. You didn’t even come to the trip that we invited you on. Is everything alright?”

You nearly choked on your words. How could you even begin to explain what was wrong—that you were utterly terrified of how much you liked him? That every time he teased you, your heart skipped a beat instead of fuming with anger? That you couldn’t fucking stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see the turmoil behind your eyes. God, you just wanted for this conversation to end or better yet, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Oh my god, why do you even care?” You shot back defensively. “You’re just here to annoy me, right? So why don’t you just go call someone and bother them instead?”

Lando’s smirk faded slightly, and he studied you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable. “You think I just want to annoy you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, frustrated by his persistent questioning. “That’s what you’ve always done ever since, isn’t it?”

Lando shook his head, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “No. Not really.”

The shift in his demeanor threw you off balance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his beautiful curly hair that you want to touch so badly. “It means that maybe I didn’t just do it to annoy you. Maybe there was another reason.”

You blinked, your mind racing to keep up. “What reason?”

Lando sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. “God, this is harder than I thought,” he muttered to himself before finally looking at you. “Look, I’ve known you since forever. Yeah, I used to tease you because you were Max’s younger sister and it was fun. But somewhere along the way, it wasn’t just about teasing anymore. I think I did it because…I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying, Lando?”

“I’m saying that maybe I’ve had a crush on you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “And I’ve been acting like an idiot because to be fairly honest, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him in utter shock, your brain struggling to process what he’d just said. All this time, you thought your feelings were unrequited, that he was just being his usual annoying self, but now, everything was different. The anger, the frustration, the confusion—it all made sense now.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, still reeling from his confession. “Honestly.”

Lando smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know. I get it if you don’t feel the same way, or if you’re too mad at me for being a jerk all these years. But I wanted to be completely honest with you for once.”

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Lando, I—“

But before you could finish, Lando suddenly stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “You know what? I can’t fucking take it anymore.” And with that, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you, pulling you into a kiss that was both urgent and tender at the same time.

For a split second, you were too shocked to respond. But then, your body seemed to take over, and you found yourself kissing back, all the frustration and anger melting away in the warmth of his embrace. It felt like everything you’d been holding back, all the mixed emotions you’d been burying, finally broke free. When Lando finally pulled back, you were both breathless, staring at each other in stunned silence.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Because I’ve wanting to do it for a long fucking time,” Lando admitted, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “And because I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me for real.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t hate you, Lando. I…I think I might be falling for you, and it’s terrifying to tell you honestly.”

Lando grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

“And you’re still a pain in the ass,” Lando shot back, his grin widening.

This time, there was no venom behind your words, no hidden frustration like it was used to. Instead, there was a new understanding between you—a mutual acknowledgment that maybe the thing you’d both been fighting against all these years was exactly what you needed. When Lando leaned in to kiss you again, you realized that no one else could make your heart race like he did, and no one else could make you as crazy or as happy.

However, Lando’s confession and that unexpected kiss did leave you feeling more confused as ever. As much as you wanted to believe in the moment, in the warmth of his touch and softness of his lips, a familiar fear gnawed at the back of your mind. After all, this is Lando Norris that you’re talking about—the guy who seemed to switch girlfriends at lightning speed. You’d seen him charm his way through countless girls, only to move on without any second thought. The idea of being just another name on his list made your chest tighten with fear and anxiety.

As you sat still, still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, Lando looked at you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to say something. But instead of responding with the excitement that was bubbling up inside you, all you could think about were the stories, the rumors, and the heartbreaks you’d witnessed.

“Lando,” you began, moving away slightly, creating a small but significant distance between you and him on the couch. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” His smile faltered, concern creeping into his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words that won’t hurt him. “Because…” you trailed off, “I know you, Lando. I know your way with girls. Yes, I can’t deny the fact that you’re very charming and sweet when you want to be, but the way you get bored and move on quickly scares me. I…I don’t think I can handle being just another girl you get tired of.” You breathed out.

Lando’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand, but you hesitated. He noticed this right away and dropped his hand to his side.

“I get why you’d think that. I haven’t exactly been the most reliable guy when it comes to relationships, am I?” You nodded and he chuckled, “but this…this is different.”

“Is it?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or are you just saying that because I’m here and it’s convenient?”

Lando shook his head, gaze so intense that you might melt and turn into a puddle any second. “It’s not like that, I promise. I know I’ve messed up before, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re not just another girl, and I’m not just saying that. I’m really serious about you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But the fear of getting your heart broken, of being left behind like so many others, made it hard to fully trust his words.

“But what if you get bored? What if this is just a phase for you, and once you’ve had your fun, you move on to someone else?”

He looked at you with an earnestness that you weren’t used to seeing him. “I can’t blame you for being scared. But the truth is, I’m scared too. I’m scared because I’ve never wanted someone so much, something to work out this badly. I don’t want to mess this up. I know I have a reputation, but I don’t want that to be who I am with you. I want to be better—for you.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your head. Could he really mean what he was saying? Was it possible that he could change, that you could be the one he was serious about? But even as the doubts swirled around you, there was a part of you that desperately wanted to take the leap, to believe that maybe this could be different.

“I don’t know if I can handle getting hurt,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

Lando took a deep breath, his expression sincere. “I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” He said, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear, “I care about you too much to let that happen. But if you don’t want to take the risk, I’ll understand. I’ll back off if that’s what you want.”

You could see the honesty in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your heart ache, knowing that he was giving you the power to decide where this would go. It would be easy to walk away, to protect yourself from the possibility of pain. But then again, what if he was telling the truth, what if this was real.

“No, I don’t want you to back off,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “But I need time, Lando. I need to see that you’re serious before I can let myself fall for you completely.”

Lando nodded, relief washing over his face. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Good. Because I’m not sure I could handle it if you did.”

As the two of you sat side by side on the couch, the show was still playing in the background, the atmosphere between you had shifted. There was no rush, no need to force anything. It was just the two of you, slowly navigating the complicated mess of emotions that came with falling for someone who scared you as much as they made you feel alive, and maybe that this was the start of something real.

[charlotteking23]

Hi, I don't know if you're taking requests, but here's one. Imagine that Bruce somehow ends up becoming a child again and this leaves his children a little desperate for fear of Y/N and Alfred's reaction, and during this time that Bruce stays in his child form one thing becomes very noticeable is that Bruce simply doesn't leave his wife's side (Y/N) and this somehow ends up making the boys, especially Damian, jealous and in the end everything is resolved.

Kisses♡ (by the way, I love your writing and I'm sorry if I'm a little confused, it's because English isn't my first language)

Little Bruce

Bruce Wayne x Y/n (batmom)

"Hey Bruce what does this do?", Here we go again Jason decided to use another machine zapping it accidentally at Bruce. " Jason, Why do you always do this didn't you learn from the age swap machine", Dick scold Jason again.

Dad are you okay, Tim said reaching towards the the oversized clothes that were on the floor. "Hi", A little boy suddenly came out of the clothes and waved.

immediately the boys started screaming and panicking. " oh no, what are Mom and Alfred going to say?", Tim said fearing for their reaction, already imagining it. "That's what you worried about not that he's butt-naked", Jason said covering his eyes, no one should ever see their dad naked.

"It's your fault stupid", Damian said looking shocked at his father being a child. "Okay, everyone calm down one of us has to tell Mom and Alfred so I vote for Jason", Dick said holding Bruce in his arms. Both Damian and Tim were okay with it, "why me?", Jason whined complaining how it wasn't fair but all he got was Are you kidding me looks from his brothers and even little Bruce.

Time skip

"Hey, kids and extra kid- who is that"? Y/n stared at her kids in shock counting them and making sure she wasn't seeing things. Wait a second that child looks like Bruce. " Mom please don't be mad but I accidentally zap Bruce to a little kid", Jason finishes saying in one breath, waiting to see his mother's reaction.

Alfred was so shocked he dropped a teacup, looking at Bruce reminding him of the past. "WHAT!, you all are grounded for 1 month", Y/n said angrily taking little Bruce out of Dick's arms.

The kids started to help more with taking care of little Bruce. But no matter what he didn't leave Y/n side always hugging her or holding her hand. Little Bruce wouldn't even sleep in the spare bedroom instead slept in his and Y/n rooms.

if you asked any of the boys who were upset with this change they would immediately say Damian. Damian was a momma boy who always got along the most with his Ummi.

"Ummi, Little dad/Bruce is staring at me with hatred, I request we should kick him out", Damian said glaring back at the little boy. "Dami, we can't do that, he's just a little boy and your father", Y/n said protesting giving little Bruce a hug.

"Mom, it's kinda weird to call a little kid my father", Jason looking at little Bruce making funny faces at him and making him laugh. One thing for sure little Bruce was much happier than adult Bruce. "I guess you're right, it is kinda weird calling him my husband as well", Y/n said side eyeing little Bruce.

While Y/n looked for a doctor to make little Bruce into an adult Bruce, so the kids babysat little Bruce. Jason was in charge of entertainment, making sure Bruce was happy because nobody wanted to deal with a crying Bruce. Alfred as usual was in charge of the meals having to expand his cooking to fit Master Little Bruce's appetite. Dick made sure to clean all the messes even the toilets to help Alfred. Tim Made sure little Bruce took his daily naps, reading stories to him, leading to Tim falling asleep. Damian all together decided not to help, because of his strong dislike towards little Bruce.

Y/n had found out about Damian's jealousy towards little Bruce. " Damian I promised you will never be replaced by anyone", Y/n said putting her pinky out for a pinky promise. what surprised me was all her kids felt like this as well, even though they didn't show. "kids I didn't mean to make you feel as if you were being replaced, come on let's hug this out." Y/n even made Alfred join in the hug.

Y/n did end up finding a doctor/mad scientist and he was able to fix Bruce. But the kids decided to take pictures and videos of little Bruce to use as leverage against adult Bruce.

"So what happened when I was Little Bruce, you guys seemed to call me", Bruce said lying in bed and hugging his wife while reading a book. It's a long story I will tell you tomorrow but heads up the kids took embarrassing photos of you when you were little Bruce", Y/n covering herself in the covers. " Oh man", Bruce said slapping his forehead and sighing deeply, while Y/n laughed at his reaction. "I missed you Y/n", Bruce said kissing her lips. "I missed you too little Bruce", Y/n said letting go of the kiss with a teasing grin.

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[heartlilith]

Synastry Chart Observations

I've had 8th house synastry with a lot of people whether that be in my house or their house. For me, it really is hatred or obsession. I've had people with Mars in my 8th house that I was not sexually attracted to at all, but they wanted me. I've had Mars in the 8th house synastry with someone that I've had an on and off fling with for 5 years.

8th house synastry will transform both parties - it'll be significant whether it's good or bad

When someone's Mars is in your 12th house, you may not understand their motives or whether they like you or not. You don't understand why they do what they do.

10th house synastry is for everyone to see. It's also the highest point in the chart. Meaning, depending on the Lord and planets in the 10th house & aspects, it could mean public scandals, situations that hurt your reputation/career, or everyone knowing your business. Or it could mean that you/your partner values and admires whatever energy is in the house, could "look up" to it.

Moon in negative aspect to Mercury means it's hard for Moon to express their emotions to Mercury. Moon thinks Mercury doesn't understand. Mercury finds it hard to talk to Moon, Mercury could feel like they have to walk on eggshells around Moon.

Someone's planets falling into your 5th house is so fun. It's like a breathe of fresh air. But this doesn't signify longevity (on it's own).

Venus conjunct Mars in synastry signifies HOT attraction, more than just physical

Whatever planet Pluto aspects, it will transform the planet person in some way. Positive or negative depends on the aspect and house placement can also give more information.

6th house synastry wants to be together everyday even if it's just coexisting - running errands together, completing tasks together, helping each other out, working out, etc

Moon in the 1st house synastry is a hard bond to break.

Having your Juno in their first house means they see you as husband/wife material

3rd house synastry is a couple that has friendly debates, takes short trips together, could write love letters (if venus or mercury influences this house), always talking to each other whether thats on the phone or in person

Having your planets in someone's 4th house means you could remind them of their mother

^Same goes for 10th house and father

Sun conjunct personal planets in synastry means there is an understanding, it's similar and familiar. Sun conjunct Sun = Personalities are similar, shared interests | Sun conjunct Moon = Understanding between emotions, Sun listens and understands Moon and vice vera | Sun conjunct Mercury - Mercury knows how to talk to Sun, they finish each others sentences, could talk all day | Sun conjunct Venus - Sun is Venus's type, Sun could be inspired by Venus and vice versa, similarities in love languages and aesthetics | Sun conjunct Mars - Mar's pursues Sun and wants Sun, completely comfortable around each other.

Having Sun, Moon, Venus in someone's 2nd house means they like to buy/give you things or gifts

Sun, Moon, Venus, or Mars in 8th house synastry means 8th house can't stop thinking of planet person

Jupiter in the 5th house synastry is trying different things together or 5th house being introduced to new hobbies

Jupiter in 1st house/12th house synastry can signify having good luck when you're around Jupiter person

Want to know someone's first impression of you? Look at where your ASC falls in their chart.

Having a lot of planets in someone's 5th, 10th and 12th house could make you their muse and inspiration

Check out my Patreon :)

[azullumi]

“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun. 

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song. 

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[mariclerc]

just finished reading the new chapter of an unexpected role and MORE LILY x GRID INTERACTIONS PLSS

Thank you very much for this request!! I love writing Lily's adventures in the paddock, it seems very cute to me 🥺🥺🥺

An unexpected role (pt.6) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well. Warning: none, just fluff as usual.

Follow the series!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Sunlight streams through the window of the Ferrari motorhome. You're sprawled on a plush sofa with Lily, your two-year-old daughter, she sits beside you with a half-eaten cookie clutched in her hand. She giggles as a video plays on your phone, showing her interactions with the Red Bull mechanics earlier.

“Hey amore, are you almost ready?” he calls from another room.

“Almost, just gotta find Lily's lucky socks!” you say smiling.

Lily throws her head back and laughs, cookie crumbs flying everywhere. You scoop her up, tickling her tummy. Visits to the paddock are more frequent now, since the first race you and Lily attended everyone in the paddock and the teams love you both, it's like a breath of fresh air in the paddock, and not to mention the fans, after the initial hatred little by little they gave in and now they adore you two.

“Where did my little lucky charm get all this cookie on her, huh?” you say softly while looking at her.

“Dan-iel!” Lily says.

“Oh, Daniel spoiled you again, didn't he?” you shake your head.

Suddenly footsteps are heard approaching the room.

“There they are! My two favorite girls.” He says entering the room with a playful smile on his face. Charles ruffles Lily's hair, who squeals in delight. “Found those lucky socks yet?”

“Yup, she had hidden them in my bag. Naughty little girl.” You say with a giggle and then lean towards Lily and put on her socks and butterfly shoes.

Charles raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “How about a pre-race cuddle session to appease the racing gods?”

Lily claps her hands and squirms out of your arms, making a beeline for Charles. He scoops her up, showering her face with kisses.

“Careful, you might give her pre-race jitters!” you say laughing.

Charles winks at you. “Nah, she's got Leclerc blood in her veins, she thrives on competition. Just ask all the mechanics she's been racing around the paddock with today.”

“Speaking of which, did you see the fan videos circulating online? Lily giving Valtteri a high five was adorable.”

“I know, right? It's amazing how much everyone loves having her around. You'd think she's been on the grid since day one.” he smiles softly.

You lean in and kiss Charles softly.

“She brings a different kind of energy to the paddock, doesn't she? Reminds everyone there's more to life than trophies.” you whisper.

“Oh, absolutely! You and Lily are my lucky charms, my whole world! Now come on, let's get this show on the road.” he said while holding you close.

You hand Charles Lily's stuffed bunny, a constant companion on race days.

“Go get 'em, champ! We'll be cheering you on from the pit wall, as always.”

“Always.” he kisses your forehead.

He takes Lily's hand, leading them both out of the motorhome. As they disappear down the hallway, you can't help but smile. Charles may be a racing champion, but in this moment, you and Lily are his biggest victories.

***

Charles emerges from the motorhome, Lily bouncing in his arms, her hair bouncing in a mini ponytail. The paddock is a hive of activity, mechanics bustling with purpose, engineers huddled over laptops, and fans straining for a glimpse of their racing heroes.

A collective gasp rises as Charles appears, Lily's bright eyes taking in the scene with wide-eyed wonder.

“Buongiorno everyone! Ready for another race?” he says while smiling to the fans in the paddock fan-zone area.

The crowd erupts in cheers.

“Forza Charles! And ciao bella Lily!” says a smiling little fan while waving his hand.

“Ci-ao!” Lily says waving her little hand.

Charles chuckles, then spots Logan Sargeant strolling towards them, a grin plastered on his face.

“Leclerc! Looking sharp today, even with your little pre-race mascot.”

Lily reaches out, giggling. “Lo-gan!”

Logan scoops her up in a playful hug, earning another round of cheers from the crowd.

“Looks like you've got some competition this weekend, mate.” Logan giggled.

Charles feigns a frown. “Don't worry, Sargeant. I'm sure I can handle a little competition... Especially when she's this cute.” He winks at Lily, who giggles and buries her face in his neck. Photographers snap pictures like crazy, capturing the adorable interaction.

“Looks like someone's got a lot of fans to sign autographs for today.” You say walking behind them.

“Only the best fans, amore. Now, come on, let's get down to the grid. It's showtime!” He says, handing Lily back to you.

You follow Charles through the throng of fans, Lily nestled comfortably in your arms. As you walk, you hear snippets of conversation, all praising Lily's cuteness and the joy she brings to the paddock.

One little girl, clutching a Ferrari flag, yells out:

“Good luck, Lily! You too, Mr. Leclerc!”

Lily waves enthusiastically at the little girl, a smile splitting her face wide open. You glance at Charles, a silent understanding passing between you. This little girl, surrounded by the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd, is exactly where she belongs. The paddock may be her playground for now, but who knows? Maybe one day, she'll be the one stealing the show on the grid.

***

The roar of the crowd intensifies as they approach the grid. Charles, focused on the upcoming race, gives you a quick but reassuring squeeze on the hand.

“Alright ma belle, listen. I gotta get ready. You and Lily find a good spot at the pit wall, alright?”

“Don't worry about us, we'll be your loudest cheerleaders. Go get 'em, champ!” you say while nudging him playfully.

He leans down and kisses Lily's forehead.

“Be good for mama, okay? And remember, papa loves you the most.” he says to Lily and he gives her a little kiss on her cheek.

Lily giggles, clinging to her bunny plushie. A young Ferrari mechanic, a teenage girl with grease stains on her overalls, approaches you both shyly.

“Hey there, little super star. You want to see the car before the race starts? It's super fast, just like you!” the mechanic tells Lily timidly.

Lily's eyes widen with excitement.

“Would you like that, Lily?” you asked Lily while smiling.

Lily nods enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much, that would be amazing!” you tell the mechanic.

The mechanic beams, clearly delighted. “No problem at all! Follow me, little miss.”

The mechanic leads Lily, her eyes sparkling with wonder, towards the gleaming red Ferrari. You watch them go, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. The paddock, once a world of flashing lights and roaring engines, has become a second home, filled with people who adore your little family.

You find a spot at the pit wall, just as Charles takes his position in the cockpit. He looks out towards the crowd, his gaze locking with yours for a brief moment. You give him a thumbs up and a reassuring smile. He nods, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

The lights go out, plunging the grid into an electrifying darkness. Then, with a deafening roar, the engines ignite. Charles is off, a blur of red against the grey asphalt. You hold Lily close, her tiny hands clutching her bunny plushie.

“There he goes, baby! That's papa!”

Lily doesn't take her eyes off the track, her small voice joining the chorus of cheers as Charles battles for position. The race is on, and you know, no matter what the outcome, this day, filled with love, family, and the thrill of the race, the paddock visits will always be one of the best adventures for you and Lily.

***

Lily's eyes are glued to the track, tracing the red blur that is Charles' car with rapt attention. You, however, find yourself drawn to a group of young engineers huddled nearby. Their animated discussion, usually filled with technical jargon, has an undercurrent of worry that sends a shiver down your spine.

You catch snippets of their conversation: "front wing damage," "pit stop for repairs," "crucial time lost." A pit stop this early in the race could throw Charles' entire strategy off balance.

Anxiety gnaws at you, but you force a smile for Lily, brushing back a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

“See that big red car down there, honey? That's papa! He's having a little trouble with his car, but the clever engineers will fix it up in no time, alright?” you whisper softly at Lily.

Lily nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. The little girl beside you, normally brimming with boundless energy, seems to have sensed the tension in the air.

“Why don't we send papa some good luck vibes? Close your eyes really tight and think of the fastest, strongest Ferrari ever!” you whisper again leaning closer to her.

Lily closes her eyes tight, squeezing her stuffed bunny with all her might. You follow suit, a silent prayer forming on your lips for Charles' safety and a successful race.

Suddenly, a flurry of activity erupts in the Ferrari pit lane... Mechanics scramble, tools glinting in the afternoon sun. Charles pulls into the pit box, the red flag forcing an unplanned early stop. You watch with a mixture of apprehension and admiration as the team works with lightning speed, their practiced movements a well-oiled machine.

Just as your heart starts hammering against your ribs, the pit stop ends. Charles, with a fresh wing and a determined glint in his eyes, roars back onto the track.

The red flag is lifted, and the race resumes with renewed intensity. The crowd erupts in cheers, their anticipation hanging heavy in the air. You grab Lily's hand, squeezing it tightly.

“There he goes! Now let's see papa show everyone what a true champion is made of!”

Lily beams, a spark of mischief returning to her eyes. She raises her tiny fist in the air, chanting along with the crowd. “Go papa go! Go papa!” she smiles shyly.

You watch, a rollercoaster of emotions churning inside you, as Charles battles his way back up the field. The race has taken an unexpected turn, but one thing remains certain: your family is in it together, for every pit stop, every thrilling overtake, and every victory (or defeat) that awaits your family on the racetrack.

***

Disappointment hangs heavy in the air as the winner's car streaks past the finish line. Charles follows close behind, his red Ferrari a blur of consolation. The crowd, initially buzzing with anticipation, erupts in a mix of cheers and groans. Lily, perched on your shoulders, scans the track with wide, confused eyes.

“Papa?” Lily asks you with a tender look.

“There he is, honey! Look, it's the red car!” You point to the part of the track where Charles' car is located.

Charles navigates his way through the final corners, bringing the Ferrari to a stop in the designated post-race area. The roar of the engine fades, replaced by a wave of mixed emotions washing over you. While a tiny part of you yearns for the elation of victory, the bigger part swells with pride at Charles' fighting spirit. He may not have secured the top spot, but he fought hard, his skill evident in every daring overtake and smooth maneuver.

Mechanics swarm the car, their faces etched with a mixture of disappointment and respect. Charles emerges from the cockpit, his helmet tucked under his arm. His expression is a mask of controlled emotions, but a flicker of disappointment momentarily clouds his eyes.

He scans the crowd, searching for his family. When he spots you and Lily, a wave of relief washes over him. He strides towards you, a determined glint returning to his eyes.

“There you are! Come here, mes amours.” He says addressing the two of you.

You weave through the throng of fans, a mix of congratulatory pats and sympathetic murmurs on your way to Charles. The air crackles with the post-race energy, a bittersweet symphony of cheers and dejection.

Charles scoops you both into a tight embrace, the familiar scent of adrenaline and sweat wrapping around you. You bury your face in his chest, offering silent comfort for a battle well fought but narrowly lost.

“You were amazing out there, Charles. We're so proud of you.” You whisper as you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I know it wasn't the win we were hoping for, but...” he kiss your forehead.

He trails off, his gaze falling on Lily, who watches the post-race celebrations with a furrowed brow.

“Hey little champ, what do you say we celebrate papa's second place with some ice cream? How does that sound?” He says smiling at Lily.

Lily's face lights up with a radiant smile, all traces of confusion forgotten. “Ice cream! Yaaay!”

Charles throws his head back and laughs, the sound a welcome release after the tension of the race.

“See? Second place isn't so bad after all, especially when you have the best pit crew a driver could ask for.” He says smiling at you.

He winks at you, the familiar spark back in his eyes. You smile, knowing that win or lose, your family bond remains the strongest trophy of all. Together, you navigate the bustling paddock, Charles and Lily hand in hand, ready to celebrate his second place and the unwavering love that binds them. The race may be over, but the joy of being together remains the most precious victory.

***

As the three of you walk through the paddock, several staff members and the drivers stop to say goodbye to the three of you... In particular, say goodbye to little Lily, since she has become the little princess of the paddock.

Lily lets out a little scream when she sees Oscar. “Osc! Osc!” she says, jumping up and down and smiles when she sees the young Australian. “Mama! Can I... 'ay goodbye to Osc?” She asked you and you smiled at her.

“Of course you can, honey pie! But be careful, okay?” you said sweetly and she let go of your hand and walked towards Oscar.

Charles let out a small chuckle as the two of you looked at Lily walking towards Oscar, Obviously you two followed her closely, but without stopping her little adventure.

Oscar looked down to see Lily, who had a smile from ear to ear. “Oh, hello there little Lily!” He said giving her a smile and bent down to take her in his arms. “What are you doing walking around the paddock alone? You know it's bad, right?” Oscar told her and she just stuck her tongue out at him as a joke.

Lily turned her little head towards you and Charles. “Mama and papa, there Osc!” She said pointing to Oscar where you and Charles were standing, you smiled at the young Australian.

Oscar smiled at the two of you and moved a little closer to you. “Hey, congratulations on the podium Charles!” says Oscar, greeting Charles friendly. “I got scared when I saw Lily walking alone in the paddock... Why did she come towards me?” He asked with a small grimace on his face.

You smiled softly. “Well she wanted to say goodbye to you.”

“Yes... And apparently she fell in love with you.” Charles said softly and Oscar's eyes widened.

“Oh, that’s so cute Lily!” he said as he hugged Lily.

“Bye Osc!” Lily said as she got out of his arms.

Both you and Charles said goodbye to the Australian and headed towards the exit of the paddock with a Lily who was somewhat curious about her surroundings.

***

When you got to the hotel room, Lily was quite exhausted from the day of adventures she had had, so, with the help of Charles, you gave her a bath and put her pajamas on. Between the two of you, you told her a bedtime story while she snuggled with her stuffed bunny Mimi.

Charles leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams my little one. I love you.” he whispered sweetly towards Lily.

“Luv you da!” she said a little sleepy.

You leave the joint room and you stood in your place. Charles turned on his heel and looked at you.

“Are you coming love?” he asked tenderly.

You blinked. “Yes... Yes honey, just give me a moment, okay?” You tell him and he nodded as he walked to the bed that was in the center of the room.

Carefully, you opened your travel bag and took out an envelope with some papers that you had been processing for a couple of months. With the help of Fred, Lorenzo and Pascale you were able to do this, you wanted Charles to officially be Lily's dad... And maybe they don't have a blood relationship or anything else, but the connection that exists between the two of them and, in general, between the three of you, is something incredible and even though neither you nor he are married, the fact that Lily bears his last name is more than enough for you.

You carefully walked back to the room with the envelope behind you. “I would like to give you this.” You whispered softly while you handed him the envelope and he sat on the bed.

He looked at you somewhat confused. “What is this darling?” he asked.

“Find out for yourself... Open it.” you whispered again.

He opened the envelope delicately and took out the papers, some contained the entire legal process to be able to have paternity rights, kinship by affinity and so on, until he reached the last one that said: Lily Marie Leclerc, he looked at you with watery eyes. “Honey... I.” he said with a small voice. “I'm... I'm her dad, chérie... Tell me it's not a dream.”

You smiled at him. “It's not a dream my love, you're officially her dad.” you said and hugged him with all your strength. “Happy Father's Day mon amour!” you whispered and placed several kisses on his face, he couldn't believe it, he was officially a dad.

“Oh god, this is.. This is the best gift I have ever been given in my life! Oh mon cœur, thank you for this!” He said now with happy tears running down his face and you smiled lovingly.

“It's nothing baby boy... I thought, well, we should make it official.” you giggled.

While you two were hugging each other, a new adventure began for your little family... The now Leclerc family and you simply couldn't be happier about this, because you and Lily feel happy, much happier than you both had been before you met him.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Grand Design.

Yan Arlecchino x F Reader.

Synopsis: Spring is soon to arrive in Fontaine, thawing out the waters and making the land greener. After weeks of being held within the walls of Hotel Bouffes d'ete, The Knave has promised you that you may go to the Florence Festival together as a reward for your good behavior. Though you are now here, you soon are reminded of how Arlecchino’s definition of a reward is quite different from yours. Still, it is best to remain on her good side. The man you two are following should have known that well too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, spoilers for Arlecchino's story quest, and minor character death/violence.

Word Count: 4.1k.

*~*~*~*

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Brutus (Instrumental) by The Buttress

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin

Bernadette by IAMX

Who Is She ? by I Monster

Bang Bang Bang Bang - Remastered 2021 by Sohodolls

Deutschland by Rammstein

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Beautiful Is Boring by BONES UK

Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Swimming Pool by Marie Madeleine

*~*~*~*

“Something wicked this way comes, and as I set to face it, I'm unsure, should I embrace it, should I run? What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?” – The Buttress, Brutus

*~*~*~*

The room that The Knave put you in when you first arrived here never fails to seem smaller than it is. Your designated bed is placed in the middle of the wall farthest from the locked doors. There is a large window on each side made of up pink and white stained glass, but no matter how much you attempt to punch them, they never shatter. The floor has carpet on top of it, just soft enough for your bare feet to feel comfortable.

Arlecchino never lets you out of your room even for meals, and thus had a wooden table installed in front of the right window. There are two chairs too; one for you and one for whomever is put up to the task of watching you while you eat. Only to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients, she said after you gained enough courage to ask. I don’t want you to get ill. You had attempted to skip meals before, but as soon as the children who had cleaned up your plates and trash after every meal had found out, “Father” was soon notified. She was not completely furious, but she was most definitely not pleased. She scolded you for what felt like hours. All you are doing is lowering your strength… surely you’ll understand eventually.

You don’t throw away your food anymore, after she was the one that oversaw you eating every day for around three weeks, her eyes seemingly staring into your soul.

At first, you ate your food because you wanted the children in charge of watching you to not suffer punishments if they were not up to the task.

But after having enough conversations with Arlecchino, your motivations changed. Once an agent of the House of the Hearth used the vacant room beside your own to sneak out and run away. From the sounds you heard from the other side of the wall, it seems they were found out immediately. Arlecchino didn’t seem distraught when she visited you a few minutes later. Her appearance was not unusual, but from the crashing noises, you knew that the agent must have tried to fight The Knave herself.

They were not successful, that much was clear. Arlecchino hadn’t even broken a sweat, while they were fighting for their life.

There was a gift for you in one of her hands. A small black box with a red ribbon. You soon connected the dots. The escapee had the worst luck. Arlecchino was already on her way to your room, and just so happened to witness them opening the unlocked window. They didn’t scream though, despite all the other loud sounds of throwing vases and such, which also showed Arlecchino finished off her target quicker than they could beg for mercy or help.

Here at the House of the Hearth, everyone is responsible for their own actions. Loyalty shall not go unrewarded. Obedience shall not go unsupported. But… Foolishness shall not be without a hefty price to pay. Lies shall not be without precious items being taken as due compensation.

So, now your top priority is to be on your best behavior solely for yourself.

Every child here looks up to you. They have treated you as such ever since you woke up behind locked doors. But they also ensure that Arlecchino’s lessons are as drilled into your skull as her lessons are drilled into theirs. They ensure that you remain compliant.

All in all, they have taught you more about the House of the Hearth than “Father” ever could. The children scold you whenever you don’t follow the House’s long list of rules as if they are your caretakers. In a way perhaps they are, in Arlecchino’s point of view, but you would never admit to that. They reward you whenever you remember to water the few plants they had placed beside your bedroom window and cheer whenever you greet their savior with a bow and a good afternoon, Madam. They take away the few books Arlecchino has given you whenever you refuse to eat and yell at you whenever you refuse to even look at her.

Why are you so ungrateful?

We only want what’s best for you!

Do you wish to break Father’s heart?

So you don’t disobey them anymore. You had realized that they were not disciplining you to have The Knave not be mad at them. No. If only it were that simple. They discipline you because they want you to be a part of their family. That is why the younger ones slip drawings of you underneath your doors. That is why the older ones joke around with you during mealtimes.

You don’t throw out any drawings given to you.

You attempt to laugh at unfunny jokes. To get access to more freedoms, you must be on your best behavior.

You have to get the children’s blessings to even be considered good enough to step into the House’s flower garden.

It has a glass ceiling with all sorts of carved plant designs on top. Rainbow Roses. Romaritime Flowers. Lumidouce Bells. Lakelight Lilies. There is a path right down the middle to see each of them in all their glory. At the end of it, there is a small tree just big enough to shadow one or two sitting people. That place has become your sacred spot. You read and even take naps there, when your unbendable schedule allows it.

That place is also where Arlecchino first proposed an award for behaving well for the children.

Lyney tells me you are adjusting well. You noticed that her tone was the smallest bit higher, but you didn’t pay attention to the way the corners of her mouth pointed upwards just slightly.

You didn’t answer her, instead nodding your head.

I trust his judgment, and therefore you can choose a reward from the two I have selected for us.

As soon as she says the first option, your hearing gives out. Your mind is focused on it and it alone. The Florence Festival. An opportunity to finally sweep your hands on blades of grass and feel the wind flow into and out of your hair. It’s paradise, plain and simple.

*~*~*~*

The small circular table’s wood is light in color, and its iron framework leaves little to be desired. The chairs possess a similar appearance due to the use of the same materials, but the top rounded rail has a fake red rose attached. It was likely formed from melted ore that was poured into molds instead of being carved by hand, but you don’t dare ask about it to the one sitting across from you, sipping her hot beverage and looking at the flower fields in the distance.

You don’t want to see anyone get in trouble for your pickiness. 

Right?

You observe in silence as a single petal drops from the vase of flowers between your two dishes, almost as if the universe is conspiring to vex Arlecchino much at the expense of the fates of those who cross her.

You are unsure as to whether or not you count.

The food on your side compared to the food on her side could not be more different; rainbow macarons and a latte and steak tartare and a cup of black tea. But they still have a common similarity despite their appearance and ingredients; they are outrageously overpriced.

The main dishes you can understand. After all, they are this cafe’s specialties along with the top two bestsellers. But the drinks are another matter entirely. You cannot possibly comprehend in what world would a cup of tea with no sugar or cream amount to ten thousand hundred Mora and that being a reasonable price. The same thing with your latte, but you figure that the added sugar and cream had understandably raised the price. 

Though twenty thousand Mora for something that took less than ten minutes to prepare when you lived by yourself is evil. Some guilt stirs within you when you think about the total amount of Mora Arlecchino has spent on you thus far on this little outing. You two have not even made it to the Florence Festival’s famous entrance arch yet. In addition, surely there will be other things she will get you, either by your request or by hers.

The Knave raises her hand like a corpse arising from its slumber.

“From what my information sources have told me, this… ‘Florence Festival’ is about the arrival of spring. It sounds rather wholesome, in my opinion… and it sounds like something the children would like to partake in, next time.” She looks down at your still full plate. “Is the cuisine not up to your expectations? We can go somewhere else if you would like.”

You shake your head, and pick up the pink macaron in an attempt for Arlecchino to not call over a rather unfortunate waiter. “No, no… It’s fine. I promise… Peruere.”

You spoke her true name with a softness akin to a dove’s plucked feathers. She does not smile, but instead leans over and grabs the red macaron off your plate. You do not stop her. Her teeth sink into it right up to the center where the raspberry jam is. The filling leaks out onto her lips, but soon blends in as they share a similarly saccharine hue.

“It is unkind to lie to me.”

Between her fingers, the macaron is crushed to near dust within a single motion. Arlecchino does not scowl, but there is a small frown on her face. A tsk sound. Disappointment.

“They’re… rather stale, aren’t they [First]?”

“I shall call over the foolish owner of this establishment, and then we shall go see the rest of this festival.”

You pray not for the owner, but for you. Arlecchino's vigilant gaze is constantly fixed on you, making selfishness seem like a mere reflex.

*~*~*~*

“I must admit I have other plans relating to this festival.” Arlecchino sighs, slowly her walking speed until she comes to a stop.

You copy her movements like you are her reflection, but unlike what she sees in pools of blood, you don’t speak when she does.

She puts one of her clawed hands near her chin as she continues. “Consider it to be an immovable obstacle, if that is how you wish to see it. But I still need your help regardless.”

You suppress all feelings of wanting something else than taking orders day in and day out, not wanting your metaphorical leash to be pulled. Arlecchino looks to her right, past the stalls of event sellers, and to the back of a young man.

“If it also makes you feel better, you shall be rewarded for assisting me.” She offers. “After our task is done, I shall buy you anything and everything you want here. The cafe was just a little sample of all the wonders I can give you if you earn them.”

Your focus is not on her words but on the stalls. It is unintentional, she knows that. But she has never been one to tolerate disrespect from anyone, and so she snaps her fingers to bring your gaze back to her. You look up at her like you are one of her apostles. She has attained your attention, your fear, and your eyes once more, all without harming a single Crystalfly. Who knows how long this will last before you regress back to old habits? She hopes for your sake, that the day you divert from her love is the day this world falls down. Even then, she will catch up to you no matter how many people she has to bury, or even if she has to bury herself.

You two will never be apart, because she won’t let anyone do so, even if it was the Tsaritsa herself.

“Yes, Arlecchino?” 

Your voice is not nearly as trembling as it used to be, but to her, that is a great thing. It means that you have the strength to carry yourself properly, but you still depend on following the rules to not be scolded. Newer children who did not ask to be in the Fatui have acted similarly once she has given them a stern talking to. Their heads are tilted upwards, and they have their one hand on their chests. The other is always behind their back with two of their fingers crossed. While you possess the former, you do not possess the latter anymore. Arlecchino is proud of you, for that. You must have learned plenty from the children. While she is not your father, she is still the head of the House of the Hearth, and all other body parts follow suit. 

Like the spider she so loved growing up though, if the head is cut off in any way, the legs will still be able to flourish. She learned that from observing specifically jumping spiders. When a much larger spider came, it bit off her chosen jumping spider’s head and left the rest of the corpse. The legs scurried away. 

The legs still lived their life even without the head in place. The children will follow suit eventually, once Arlecchino eventually perishes. Though you will follow her. She expects nothing less. Thus, she already has preparations for what is to come on that fateful day.

It will be painless though. She guarantees that.

“Follow him,” She orders. “Befriend him, if you would like. Just please don’t get too attached, now.”

*~*~*~*

When you’re off to do your task, Arlecchino reminisces of better times. She sighs, sits down on one of the nearby benches, crosses one leg over the other, and looks down at her black hands. The same ones that hold others that are brimming with purity. Though she has never touched your hands, she can tell they are warm and soft, and everything else hers are not, from how much hand lotion you use each week and how often you manicure your nails. She doesn’t want to ask you, but the reason for this is unknown to her. Is she afraid of rejection? No. That cannot be it. 

You wouldn’t dare reject her, after all, that you learned never to do at Hotel Bouffes d'ete. Lyney and Lynette were your main teachers if she remembers properly. Though, now that she thinks about it, Foltz must have had some lessons for you as well. He is not a cruel boy to those who have earned Arlecchino’s trust, but at the same time, he has no mercy for those who break Father’s rules. Lynette must have stopped him on multiple counts every time you acted out of line.

Foltz is too impulsive, while Lynette is frankly too calculating.

That is why she chose Lyney to teach you most of the ropes she set out.

Lyney is good at that sort of thing.

He has the power to get everyone to listen to his beck and call with a simple smile and a few words. She also trusted he would help you feel more comfortable, as Lyney always gives gifts and speaks more gently to newcomers. With his help, Arlecchino knows very specific things about you, details that outsider Fatui spies would never be able to grasp. Whether or not you told him those things is insignificant. Lyney may not be as observant as Lynette, but he still has a knack for seeing finer habits and actions. Arlecchino also knows though that because of the twins’ bleeding hearts, they often bury anything Foltz will tell on before he sees them. After all, Foltz still has yet to grasp certain aspects of your body language and speech patterns because he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, but Lyney and Lynette know much more because they spend the most time with you.

She doesn't mind it at all, because they treat you like family. That is all Arlecchino wants when it comes to you, to make you see their way and for everyone to get along.

…

If only the faces of the Hearth stayed the same, that they only grew and never lessened. It disappoints her, whenever she has to deal with people that are ordered to be erased.

But even after they are erased by her, sometimes the dead come back in surprising ways. Like the man you are following. It pains her, somewhere deep down. She knows that it is for the best of the House, but emotions cannot be suppressed forever.

She almost weeps when she thinks of a familiar face but closes her eyes before tears can fall.

“Pierre Snezhevich,” she says. “You had the chance to be reborn, took it… and now, for what? This time you are destined to die for good, I’m afraid.”

She takes the bundle of dried daffodils from her pocket and lays them beside her.

*~*~*~*

“I… daffodils are my favorite flower.”

The man takes but a few steps closer as he says those words, smiling. But the moment you attempt to bridge the gap yourself, he stops and looks around. His pointer finger adjusted his glasses as he looked more in peril than happy. The other hand drops the bundle of daffodils near his feet, and you see them both retreat into his leather jacket’s pockets.

You don’t move any closer, afraid that you may scare him off with any sort of movement. You don’t move any closer, afraid of scaring him away and invoking Arlecchino’s wrath. If you fail this mission, who knows how long it will take before you’re allowed to go outside again?

You simply wait in place with your hands in front of you, and attempt to give him the most comforting smile you can muster. But your acting skills are still subpar when compared to The Knave and her children. So because of that, the man doesn’t move from his position either, scowling.

“Need something?” He asks, making it glaringly obvious he doesn't trust you in the slightest. “If you have something to say… say it already. Please.”

“Uh… I just complimented the bouquet in your hand. I… don’t really have anything else to say in particular, I just wanted to strike up a conversation.”

The man looks past you, and you don’t hear a verbal response. 

Instead what you hear is the clattering of high heels touching the path’s bricks.

“Ah, dearest, here you are.”

A familiar clawed hand rests just above your collarbone, the arm just above the opposing shoulder. You don’t speak and only watch as the man’s expression delves little by little into complete terror. His eyes widen and his knees crumble. 

“Eric Draftler… What a surprise. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” 

“You… two know each other? I was just asking about the daffodils,” You play into the lie, this little image Arlecchino told you to sketch with hardly any directions on whatever to do. The wind leads the daffodil petals on the ground into the air, and soon some of them are gone. Only the leaves remain. “This… is my fiancée. Arlecchino.” 

“Didn’t I just tell you we know each other?”

“Yes but still,” You don’t look into her eyes, instead staring at Eric’s shadow from across the path. For you know what is lurking within their depths, somewhere deep down in there. Disappointment, and a scolding waiting to happen. You can practically hear it now, her voice edging on anger with no ounce of any other emotion in her tone. “I just wanted him to remember if he… forgot. That’s all.”

Gradually, as you both proceed, Eric begins to move further and further away from you, walking backward. Eventually, you manage to guide him to a less crowded section of the festival, almost as if you pushed him there.

“Tell me, why did you kill Ginelle?”

Arlecchino’s voice is no longer friendly, and her grasp on your neck area is tighter. But you still don’t dare to ask her to stop, because that will make your injuries far worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fatui scum.” Eric hisses, his arms now covering his stomach as he turns paler. “I have never met you.”

Arlecchino lets go of you, crossing her arms as she gets closer. “Oh really?”

“Not in person at least!” Eric says, almost yelling. “You-”

As Arlecchino puts a finger to her lips though, Eric’s voice gets quieter.

The clattering of high heels also gets quieter as she gets the closest she can be to Eric without giving up the illusion of common courtesy. She shakes her head and looks down on him. Arlecchino never tolerates anything other than murmuring voices, gentle singing, or absolute silence. 

It’s something you have come to know quite well. This rule has no exceptions.

“Now, now, Mister Draftler.” She leans just slightly. But her head is still held high. “I just wanted a conversation. I promise you that this conflict can result in no physical fighting if you just listen to what I have to say.”

Eric does not move back anymore. While his mind is most likely forwarding the flight response, his body is stuck at a standstill. It’s a stance you have grown to know well when Arlecchino approaches someone; them being an enemy, a friend, or otherwise is of no significance to her. All she wants is control, and to appear above everyone else.

Whether to guide, defend, or crush depends on your perspective more than hers. She has the power to make dreams come true but often chooses to conjure nightmares instead. They teach better lessons that way in her opinion, regardless of whether they are the last lesson they will ever learn or one of the first in a long line of those to come. 

“You’re simply overreacting, I’m afraid.” A tsking sound emerges from her throat as she continues to look down into the eyes of her already-defeated foe. “I do not wish to detain you and bring you to Snezhnaya for further questioning. My dear [First] will be all alone with no one to care for her quite like I do if I have to go all the way to the Zapolyarny Palace to oversee your trial and due punishment. I am sure you don’t want that either, yes?”

Eric does not respond, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know your past life, don’t you?” Arlecchino asks, no, states. “You most likely don’t remember anything but key fragments, but that is more than enough to justify giving you the death sentence. When you attempted to sneak out via that room next to [First]’s, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You repay me by killing your own sister?” 

While Arlecchino does not tolerate loud noises from other people, she has nothing against raising her own voice. So, she does just that.

“How dare you.” She steps just a bit closer, having her arms crossed once again. “You were my child once, Pierre. But no longer.” Arlecchino puts a hand out towards Eric and squeezes. The man begins to choke, clawing at his throat. 

You put your hands over your eyes, and wait until it is over.

…

You’re not sure how long it takes for Eric to die.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, you think. But time dragged on as you attempted to blur out the sounds of Eric’s gasps and scratching.

From the little bit you allowed yourself to see, you could have sworn Arlecchino was smiling.

“You didn’t do the best job, I’m afraid.” You hear The Knave say, and realize she is talking to you.

“I’m sorry.”

She sighs then, you think. The clattering of her high heels gets louder as she approaches you. Then a thump.

“It’s alright. You still managed to get the target distracted while I did the rest. In addition, this was not a terrible outcome for your first mission.” Arlecchino puts a hand on your head, and you uncover your eyes, looking up at her. “Be proud, [First].”

Her nails don’t poke into your scalp like you feared they would. You’re grateful for that.

“Well, a deal is a deal, yes? Let us enjoy this festival while it lasts.” She turns around to look at the body behind you two. “Oh, and don’t worry about that. It’ll stay here to teach a lesson to fools.”

You weren’t worried about that in the first place.

You’re worried about what will happen to you when your plans of escaping are executed.

“Is something the matter?”

You attempt to smile, but if anything you look exhausted. “No. I’m just… happy.”

“I’m glad.”

[jenosbliss]

Hi, can I req for jaemin enemies to lovers with 4, 16 & 23?

pairing. fem!reader x enemy!jaemin | genre. fluff | wc. 2k | warnings. none

a/n. i’ve idea for a part 2 , will probably post it after sometime

‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.’ I once read in a book which I regretted reading afterwards but again in another book I read ‘Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them.’ The book which goes by the name The Hating Game.

I would have loved that book if it wasn’t an enemies to lovers trope, the only form of romance I dislike the most. Enemies-to-lovers is something which could not exist in real life, you can never fall in love with your enemy, someone you hate from the bottom of your heart. At least I can’t with Na Jaemin .

Not that I want to fall in love with him —it’s even scarier than my worst nightmare— but even thinking about loving or liking that jerk makes me want to throw up.

Yes, you can also say that it’s all just in my head how my friends remind me everyday and who so happily enjoy watching our bickering, our death glares at each other, our hatred for each other. They are living in the daily soap they spend hours watching because only both of us can see the anger and hatred dripping from our eyes.

Even friendship can’t exist between us, jokes on me to even think of friendship when we can’t stand each other if we are in the same room, as snarky comments and death glares fly across the room. No one can stand us together to be honest.

Why do I hate him? I don’t know when my hatred for him even started, maybe it was hate at first sight. Such a self-absorbed, cocksure, smug, stubborn jerk he is. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he looks —he’s handsome almost like a Greek God, but I’m not going to accept it— just his whole existence pisses me off. Also not like he ever gave me a reason to change the way I felt for him cause he reciprocates my feelings, if not more.

“I’m not sharing the room with him.” Trying my best to tone my voice down I yelled at my friend who was allotting the rooms. “Y/n try to understand please, we don’t have any more rooms left.” She pleaded, pulling me inside her room.

When my friends asked me if I wanted to be a part of this two-day holiday to the beach, never had I imagined that when I would enter the room of the hotel we’re staying for the weekend I would find him sprawled –like a starfish– on the bed, the bed I was supposed to spend the night peacefully on!

“But you know I can’t stand him even for a second! No, change his room.” huffing, I crossed my arms around my chest. “But all the other rooms are occupied y/n, you came late so…” she trailed off, fueling my anger even more. “I didn’t turn up late on purpose! I had informed you beforehand that I’ll be late!” Looking behind her I saw a figure coming out of the bathroom.

“Maybe your boyfriend, who happens to be his friend” rolling my eyes I continued “can switch the room with me?” That’s the most I can give in, I’m ready to switch the rooms which should’ve been him instead. “C’mon Y/N! I understand the tension between you two is as high as Mount Everest…” gasping dramatically I passed her an offensive look, there was no tension between us, it was just hate.

Ignoring me she continued “… but everyone has needs and I have a life too, I want to spend some time with my boyfriend. So will you please let us? It’s just a matter of tonight. We’ll sort something out tomorrow. It's already past 2, go sleep.” Even before she finished her short monologue I was pushed out of the room with a large wooden door slammed shut in my face.

Was she for real? If she planned this whole trip just to fuck her boyfriend she didn’t have to ask me! Why make my already not so good life even worse? Stomping my way aggressively to the room I grabbed my head in frustration.

“It’s just for a night, you can do it y/n. Calm down. Relax.” Taking a deep breath I tried to prepare myself, “Or you always have a second option if things go out of your hands, killing” A little voice inside my head said. It’s not like this voice has appeared for the first time. Last week when he “accidentally” spilled his iced tea on me, I was about to throw the chair I was sitting on his face. This voice appeared that time too. “I don’t wanna go to jail because of such a useless human.” I thought.

“You know it’s better to sleep than making plans to kill me and I’m not useless.” The door opened to reveal him with an utterly idiotic smirk. Can he read minds too? Okay I’m in trouble then, no I didn’t think anything for which you should smirk too but all my plans of tricking him will be known.

“Are you a stalker or what?” Pushing him away I entered the room, which was supposed to be mine. “No darling, your footsteps can be heard around ten miles from here. I just happen to have great hearing skills.” He whispered the last part.

I could have replied, I could have continued this which would soon turn into bickering but I was too tired for that, I just wanted to sleep peacefully, ironically peace and Na Jaemin don’t come together. So let me change my statement, I just wanted to sleep at any cost.

“Here, take the pillow, sleep on the couch.” Throwing the fluffy white material filled with soft feathers at him, I started unpacking my bag to take out my night clothes. “And why should I listen to you?” He plopped down on the bed, stretching out. “Jaemin, right now I’m not in the mood to argue.” Raising my hand, I shook my head.

“Neither am I, but I’m as stubborn as you. Which means I am not sleeping on the couch.” Closing my bag I faced him, as stubborn as me? It’s not a good start, it can never be with him. “Why are you like this?” Scowling, I moved to the bathroom. “Why are you like this?” He mimicked. God, save this guy from me.

Coming back to the room after changing my clothes I saw him still lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Rolling my eyes out of annoyance I walked up to my side of the bed and started putting the spare pillows and cushions between us. “Is this really necessary?” Sparing a glance at what I was doing he asked.

“Very much necessary, I don’t want to wake up with your limbs around me in the morning.” Even the thought of it disgusted me. “But this is eating up too much space.” He complained. “Better than you eating me-” Realising how wrong that must have sounded I looked at him, who had that mischievous smirk which made me furious. “That one sounds better.” He lied back down.

“Shut that mouth of yours and sleep.” Switching off the lights I faced the other direction. “It's hot when you talk back, princess.” He teased, I hate these nicknames so much!

I shouldn’t have come on this trip, everything about it was wrong. First, sharing the room with Jaemin , almost fighting with my friend and the worst of all coming even though I twisted my ankle –the sole reason I was late– to the hotel. My left ankle felt as if someone was slowly cutting it off with a sharp axe, it’s so painful!

Groaning, I shifted to the other side, trying to get in a comfortable position to fall asleep, forgetting about the man next to me. “Are you uncomfortable?” A husky voice made my eyes shoot open to find the sleepy ones of Jaemin already on me. “What do you expect when you’re lying next to me?” Scoffing, he shifted closer much to my dismay.

“Look I know your ankle hurts cause Junhee told me you’re at the hospital getting your ankle treated so don’t try to pull up an act.” Taken aback by his interest in me –I know she’ll never tell him about my whereabouts until he asks– I questioned further. “Why did you ask her about me?” How dumb of me to raise an eyebrow as if he would see it.

For the first time in the three years I have known him he stuttered when talking to me, was he that taken aback by my question? Omg y/n don’t forget to write it in your diary. “H-huh? I- I…” he cleared his throat “I thought I was using this room alone when Junhee came and asked if you could stay in this room too as you were late and there weren’t any spare rooms left… so I asked why you were late…” this sounds convincing, not very much but it does.

“Oooh. By the way, what about your girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be on this trip with her and the one you should be sharing the room with?” I smirked. My eyes were begging me to sleep but my brain forced me to put up this question. “We broke up a year ago.” He deadpanned as I facepalmed myself mentally. What a stupid question!

“So you haven’t dated for a year?” I gasped genuinely shocked. “Yes.” Wait really, the OH SO GODLY Jaemin hasn’t dated anyone FOR A YEAR!! “Not even a fling?” I was about to get up but the stinging pain in my ankle pulled me back. “You own my heart” he said, was it my heart skipping a beat? No y/n don’t be fooled by him! “C’mon tell me.” Slapping lightly on his arm I whined.“No. Not even a fling.” He repeated. “Woah, wow! I mean it’s surprising.” It was surprising, at least to me. “Is it? Because I thought you knew the girl very well I’m interested in so I don’t think it should surprise you.” He whispered. Wait what?

Leaning his head on his elbow he stared in my eyes, even though it was dark –nothing could be seen as there was very little light coming from the curtained window– but his eyes shone in this darkness, as if they were the only source of light in this dark room, as if they are the most beautiful pair of eyes to ever exist, as if I could stare at them forever, as if I could drown in th-

‘What the hell are you thinking y/n!? You hate him, you can’t like him! He’s your enemy’ the same voice from before alarmed me, it was right, he’s my enemy…

“Did you take painkillers?” He questioned, eyes not leaving mine. “Yes, after dinner I did.” Neither did I break the gaze. “Then we can try this.” With this said he stood up, took two pillows –which were used to limit our respective bed spaces ‘by me’– and placed one of the pillows under my leg which had been aching and the other beside it as if securing my ankle.

“I hope it’s better than before.” His eyes creased, hinting the smile on his lips. “It is, thank you.” mumbling, I closed my eyes shut not wanting to let my thoughts move freely. ``Sleep y/n, you just need to sleep.’

“Sleep well y/n and don’t worry I won’t throw my limbs on top of you.” the mattress next to me dipped inwards, he had lied down, probably facing the other side I hope. Opening my eyes I looked at his face, so close to me… I really hate this guy.

I hate him because firstly he didn’t face the other side, secondly he made me feel all these weird things for him and thirdly, he didn’t keep his promise. After he had fallen asleep and probably I was too I felt his arms curling around my torso as he shifted closer to me.

I even heard him mumbling something along the lines of "It's time to stop lying to ourselves." Maybe I was dreaming, maybe not but I couldn’t care less right now because he felt warm, and I liked that warmth. Maybe he isn’t that bad, maybe I shouldn’t hate him this much.

navigwation.

nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

[httpwintersoldier]

『 think I need someone older. || buggy x reader 』

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: there's many words in here alright! like, many summary: who would've thought that the best thing you'd get out of your relationship would be the guy after it. angst; smut; fluff. ᴄᴡ: ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ; ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ

"Come on, let's go!"

Buggy stared with an intense look, from the corner of the room, as this drunk looking guy grabbed your arm and dragged you across the bar.

"Stop! Let me go! I haven't finished my shift!"

The man's grip tightened on you and he pulled you close, your noses almost touching from the proximity.

"I told you I don't want you working! Much less in a fucking bar! What, you like all these men looking at you!?"

Your boyfriend spat those words at your through gritted teeth, and you swore his iris shrunk in size giving his eyes more space to express their hatred at disgust towards you.

"Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus..." Buggy repeated the quote in his head like a mantra as he sipped his beer, reminding himself that the extraneous relationship was none of his business.

And usually he would not mind, other people's predicaments were none of his concern and he didn't care to make them his concern, but you were different.

The Captain had only seen you working at the bar a couple of times and he had found you... pathetic. Smiling at the customers, apologising, actually doing your best and being polite. That showed weakness. You were weak. Weak, and innocent, and pathetic, and someone who would never survive in this world. And for that he wanted you.

Buggy refused to put two and two together, he refused to accept that for once there was someone he wanted to protect instead of hurt - because that would mean that he would have a weakness: you.

It was only when you showed him kindness and respect instead of fear and disgust that the Captain began somewhat welcoming the idea of you.

It had been a terrible day - the crew was hungover and some punks took the chance to ransack the ship - and Buggy just needed a drink. He sat alone on the corner and some pesky, useless waitress set the wrong drink in front of him.

"I should have you killed for your incompetence!" He had dramatically yelled at you.

Instead of pleas or more yelling, his threat was met with a question.

"Why?"

It instantly calmed him down, he had never been questioned on his threats... Sure they had been laughed at, they had been feared... But never questioned.

"Does this look like my order!?" Buggy said, a lot calmer but still showing annoyance as he didn't want you to think you somehow had the power to take away his rage.

"Can't I just replace it, Sir? I can make it on the house if you'd like!"

Buggy left after that, without another word. It effectively made you think that he now hated you and your service, but the fact was his heart beat faster. His heart beat in a way that had only beat before when he was fighting or torturing someone, and the Captain had to sit alone and wonder what it meant - and how he could shoo it away. No one had ever been able to calm him down, let alone make him feel bad for the tone he had used - until you waltzed in the Captains' life with your pretty smile and tight fabrics.

He sat on that same corner that day watching that man mistreat you in front of everyone. The look on your face was one Buggy did not recognize - he was half certain you were incapable of portraying negative emotions, but now it seemed like all of them were flowing through you.

"I-I wanted to get money t-to help you buy that ship you wanted! For your birthday, baby!" You lied, trying to stop your body from shaking.

You wanted some financial independence from that man, you wanted to be able to buy stuff for yourself without having to go by your partner first, or without having to get his approval because "it was his money after all", but you figured a lie would be best.

After that, the man roughly let go of your arm, but your faces remained at the same distance.

"We will discuss your schedules at home." He said in a threatening, low tone and promptly left the bar.

You looked around - the place was never calm, except when there was gossip and drama to pay attention to. Your eyes scanned the room and you laughed nervously.

"It's alright fellas! Apologies for disturbing your night I will get you all a round on the house!"

Cheers echoed the room and it went back to the rowdy environment you knew as you tried your best to excuse yourself to the back where you could breathe.

You left through the door and slid down the brick wall of the alleyway where the staff took their smoke breaks, thanking the gods that it was vacant. Your thighs hit the cold stone floor but you didn't care - at least you could breathe. It felt like there was a boulder on your chest that prevented you the air to leave your lungs and chemicals in your eyes that prevented you from crying up until that point.

The sound heavy boots smacking against the stone echoed in the air, getting closer and closer to you. You assumed it was your manager, and you didn't want to get fired but you couldn't get back inside just yet.

"Sorry, Sir... I will go back in in just a minute." You said, voice muffled from your head being buried in your arms.

Buggy wasn't sure what to say, - he wasn't good at comforting people, not at all - so he just stood there, looking down at you, as if the space around him would freeze to give him enough time to think of the appropriate reply.

When you obtained no reply, you got worried - was you boss that mad that he wouldn't even dignify you with a response?...

You slowly peeled your head from your arms and looked up at the person in front of you, to find the somber clown that sat on the corner of the bar every other day. You immediately stood up and violently wiped the tears from your cheeks and the dirt from your skirt as you tried your best to look presentable.

Buggy's looks towards you were always a mix of very intense emotions that you couldn't decipher, but now they were a lot softer, almost as if he felt sad for you - and honestly you much preferred angst to pity.

The Captain softly grabbed your arm, stopping it from rubbing your skin so violently and potentially damaging something so beautiful.

"I-I'm sorry I will go back in now I didn't mean to disturb the service please let me offer you-"

Your frantic, apologetic rant was cut short by Buggy's voice.

"Why are you with him?"

Your eyes, that previously wandered everywhere but his face, found his gaze.

"Him? Him who? My... boyfriend?"

Buggy just nodded, searching your face for all of the emotions he could gather - they were all negative, and those he was good at.

"I love him." You said dryly, not one ounce of emotion laced in your words.

"You don't. You fear him. People who are feared are not loved, I should know..." The Captain said the last part under a deep inhale.

You were left silent. You were angry and in disbelief that this man that didn't even know you had the gall to make such serious accusations about you and your relationship.

But he was right. And now you knew how painfully obvious it was.

At some point you did love him - your boyfriend would bring you flowers every other week, he would write often, expressing his love, when he needed to sail for work, he would cook intricate dinners and fill the bedroom with roses and gifts in every special date you shared... But once he knew he had you, the man changed completely - a tale as old as time. And your boyfriend knew you held onto the hopes and memories of the past and used it against you, pretending to be the caring man he once was from time to time to keep you around.

"So? Why are you with him?" The Captain asked once more upon being faced with your silence, slowly stepping closer.

You opened your mouth to say something, hoping your brain could scramble together an excuse for being with that man that didn't sound as pathetic as just "nostalgia".

Before you could speak, Buggy placed his index finger on your chin and tilted your head up so you could look into his beautiful, big green eyes. They were hypnotizing, really.

"Exactly." He whispered "There is no reason. So let me take you away."

You widened your eyes.

"Take me away!? Where would you even take me?..."

Buggy chuckled, approaching his face to yours.

"Anywhere, everywhere..." He whispered.

Your face grew hot and the atmosphere around you became tense, this time a completely different feeling filling the air.

"But... why? I thought you disliked me. You know, because of that day... I feel like you've been giving me the stink eye from that corner you sit on ever since."

Buggy let out a short laugh as he took his time to examine every pretty little detail of your face up close.

"Dislike you? I'm crazy about you. The way your fetching eyes twinkle when you smile, the way you sing when you wipe down the bar, the way your dresses fit you..."

Buggy allowed the hand that wasn't on your chin to trail up your body, still remaining far from any places he shouldn't (but wanted to) touch, as his eyes stole a look at your slightly exposed chest.

You were speechless. You hadn't heard someone talk about you with such admiration and love in a long time, but alas, the last time you believed it it lead you to the nightmare you lived in currently.

As you were reminded of such a fact, your eyes filled with tears once more and you stepped back, away from his touch.

"He used to tell me those things too... I've heard all of it. I'm sorry I-I can't trust this act a-and I need to go back to work."

Buggy stayed in his place, not wanting to scare you more than you already were or ruin any potential chance he might've had by being too insistant. In a last effort, he called your name, just as your hand met the cold metal of the door's handle, and you stopped.

"Y/N. You're dating a manchild, he doesn't know what to do with a good woman like you because he's a boy." Upon seeing he had piqued your interest, the Captain stepped closer and leaned to whisper in your ear from behind "Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman such as yourself."

Your heart was thumping in a way you had never felt before, and althought you opened the door and ran inside to stop Buggy from seeing your blush, he knew.

He chuckled, left the alleyway and walked to his ship, letting the proposal sit on your mind.

Unbeknownst to your boyfriend (and to you), that night was crucial. The events of that night would heavily determine if you'd take the Captain up on his offer or not, even if you didn't know it at the time.

Once your shift ended you bid goodbye to the old man that owned the bar and made your way home, hands in the pockets of your heavy coat and smoke coming out of your mouth with every breath from the cold night air.

"Hey!" You greeted once you closed the door of your home.

You removed your coat and put on the best fake smile you could muster as you ealked over to your boyfriend whom sat on the dinner table drinking some sort of ale that he had brought from work.

"Good news honey!" The man said, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"What is it?" You asked with hope in your voice that, for once, the good news would benefit you as well.

"The man who handles the money down at the bar you work for is an old pal of mine, I talked to him and he can send the money directly to our house so I can keep it safe! So no need to wait for it on pay day anymore, I can just put it directly towards my ship like we wanted!"

Your boyfriend kept talking, but you had stopped listening halfway through. Your heart was beating way too fast for you to focus, and the ringing in your ears became too loud for you to hear.

He decided what you did, what you bought, what you wore, where you went... The smallest, tiniest bit of freedom you had was taken away. Everything was taken away.

There was no escape. Anywhere you went, anything you did... no escape.

Except... the Captain. He had offered you an escape. The clown had practically opened the door to freedom for you.

Or maybe not, maybe you'd just be walking into a different type of captivity, but something in your head and in your heart told you Captain Buggy was different. Maybe it was the sweet words or the twinkle in his eyes that were shining with something other than the possessiveness you had always been used to, something like care, or admiration even.

You placed your hands in your boyfriend's chest, slowly peeling yourself away from the hold he had on you as the fake smile faded into visible panic and anxiety. You had to make a decision, and you had to make it fast.

Before your head could process anything and before your mouth could protest his decision, your body turned to the door and your legs started running.

You didn't even know what Captain Buggy's ship looked like, you just ran to the docks in hopes that it would somehow work out for you.

As expected, the man you once loved ran after you, screaming, cursing and threatening all the way to the docks.

You had a considerable distance from him, and, thankfully, Buggy's flags with red-nosed skull made it easy for you to find the ship - although it wasn't needed.

When you looked behind you to make sure you kept said distance from your (ex-)boyfriend, you bumped into someone. The person didn't let you fall, however - he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you as steady as possible.

"Get your fucking hands off her, clown!" Your boyfriend said in a tone that made it seem like he was frothing at the mouth - he might as well have been.

When you looked up to identify your saviour, you smiled in relief to find Buggy, tears welling in your eyes from the previous anxiety and panic that finally dawned on you. His piercing green eyes stared at your boyfriend menacingly, and had you not known how much the man wanted you, you too would have been scared of the expression painted on his face.

"Watch your tone, boy, and then leave." The Captain warned.

"I won't watch-"

Buggy didn't allow your partner to finish the sentence, he detached the hand that didn't hold onto you and wrapped it around the other man's neck, throwing him against a wall with enough strenght to knock him out.

As the hand came back to its place, Buggy looked down at you adoringly.

"I take it you accept my proposal, princess?"

You tried to bite back the smile, but to no avail.

"I do accept it. But!" Buggy leaned down ever so slightly, showing the most interest in whatever condition you had decided to set "If you ever scream at me I will leave you."

Buggy's smile stretched wide, and he pressed kisses all over your face.

"Oh my dear princess, my beautiful, beautiful treasure... If I ever so much as annoy you feel free to shoot me dead."

You grinned and slapped his chest.

"Don't be dramatic!" You said and giggled, unable to contain how giddy he made you, how he made you feel a way you hadn't ever felt, not even at the peak of your ex-boyfriend's supposed love.

You yelped and wrapped your arms around Buggy's neck as he picked you up bridal style to take you to his ship.

Some wolf whistles were heard as he walked through the ship carrying you, forcing you to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment, but they were quickly shut up by the stern, disapproving look on the Captain's face.

You lifted your head and opened your eyes when he placed you down on the creaky wooden floor. You looked around to find a somewhat messy and dark room. There was a single, not-so-spacious bed that was unmade against the wall in front of you and under the porthole of the room, an old, tall dresser and a big desk with papers (that you assumed were maps) and random jewelry scattered across it were to your left and to your right was an worn out couch with questionable stains. A pair of boots as well as various items of clothing were by the corner of the room.

Buggy hissed and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the mess in his bedroom.

"Yeah... I didn't acutally expect any company..." The Captain said, obvious embarrassment in his voice.

You giggled and picked up some of the clothes forgotten in the corner of the room.

"That's okay, I'm a little messy sometimes!" You tried your best to make him feel more comfortable about the state of his room as you folded his clothes.

"No, no, no! What are you doing? Don't trouble yourself!" Buggy panicked, holding your hands to stop you from doing any housework.

"Just trying to help you out a little! You know, as a thank you..." Your voice got a little shaky as the memory of the wave of emotions that had overcome you just minutes ago hit once more.

"A thank you for what? My own crew gives me a harder time than that little... sample of a man. He's a weak man, it was no trouble." The Captain assured, basically pleading you to lay down and rest.

You couldn't help but smile, a victorious smile, more than anything. Your now ex-boyfriend was prideful in his strenght and (supposed) fighting skill, no one really fought him, and when they did he'd unfortunately come out on top most times, but to hear Buggy speak of him in such a way and describe him as if he were but an annoying fly waiting to be swatted... it felt like victory. Imagining him pathetically limping back home and wallowing in his own self pity was nothing short of a dream come true.

"A thank you for rescuing me, Captain."

Buggy thought he was feeling sick, from the way his heart beat and his face heat up. He couldn't speak or think straight, for a second he thought it was a stroke or something of the sort.

The man stood in the same place, watching you fold his clothes neatly and fluff the pillows of the couch before moving to (try to) help you. He did his best to organize all the maps in the desk as he pushed the jewelry into a drawer with a detached foot.

By the time he had properly rolled up the maps and put them in their proper place, you had already finished the remaining parts of the room.

"You did well! That looks good!" You said, walking up behind him.

Buggy felt a strange wave of pride hit him. Like no other accomplishment he had previously achieved mattered, because this was the only one the Captain had complimented you on. The man did his best to wipe the stupid smile off of his face but there was no hiding how obsessed he was with you and everything you did.

Your tired yawn snapped him out of his trance, and his big green eyes looked at you in worry.

"Are you tired? You must be tired... Just..." Buggy walked to over to the dresser and took a big, warm blanket from it, handing it to you "Take the bed, you should get some sleep."

You held the thick blanket in your arms as you saw the man try his best to fluff the pillows and make the bed comfortable for you. You didn't know how to react to this much care and attention, you felt undeserving of it.

"Y/N? Shit, are you okay? Did I go overboard? Did I do too much!?" You didn't realize how fast you were breathing until Buggy brought it to your attention, and before long there were two panicked people in the room not knowing what to do for two completely different reasons.

The clown had never liked someone as much as he liked you, and you had never had anyone like you as much as he did. It was comical, really, although at the time it didn't feel like it, it was just the purest image of two fools falling in love.

"I-I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of me, that is all- I can take the floor." You said, trying to stabilize your voice as much as possible.

"Oh princess, I've been thrown around by people my whole life, I've gotten pieces of me stuck in boxes and I've been used as a punching bag, sleeping in the couch instead of the bed is no trouble at all... I didn't bring you to my ship just to have you sleep on the floor, that is an absolute no." The Captain said with a small smile, carefully cupping your cheek.

He could tell from your face that you weren't satisfied with the solution, even if the man guaranteed you he'd be comfortable.

"What if... we share the bed? If you don't mind..." You suggested, unable to look him in the eye.

Buggy's body tensed and heat up at the thought of the both of you pressed up against each other in the small bed, and he tried his very best to not seem like a creepy pervert, but the thoughts in his head seemed to have other plans.

"Uh sure... Yeah, that works." He blurted out, like an awkward teenager trying to seem cool and uninterested after a long silence.

You loosened your corset and set it neatly next to your shoes, as you removed the hairband that tried its best to keep your hair in place during your shifts at the bar.

Buggy turned his back to you, feeling like he was somehow invading your privacy even though you hadn't asked him to look away.

The man removed his jacket, boots and belt as well, trying to get more comfortable. Usually both you and him would sleep in less clothing, but for the sake of decency and modesty (which Buggy had apparently adhered to exclusively for you) you decided against it.

When you turned around, Buggy was removing his bandana, and your eyes widened as his blue hair extended down to his lower back.

"Woah..."

Buggy turned around to face you, confused, as you softly grabbed a strand of his hair.

Once he saw your eyes shining as you looked at his long blue locks he smiled - a mix of confidence about his hair, and shyness about the way you looked at him.

"You like it? I kinda forget people don't really know how long my hair is."

"It's beautiful..." Your voice was soft as you ran your hand along his (surprisingly) soft and shiny hair, almost as if you were afraid to scare him away.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you. Not even close. Nothing has even been or will ever be as beautiful as you are." The words were caught in Buggy's throat, more than anything, he was afraid that his feelings and constant thoughts of your alluringness would scare your off, so those words were replaced by the suggestion of going to sleep.

Buggy let you lay first, closer to the wall so you wouldn't fall off the bed if you happened to move as you slept. The Captain then laid next to you, very happy about the lack of space the bed offered.

You both had to lay on your side, your back pressed against his chest. You'd be lying if you said you'd disliked the proximity - his body was warm and you felt protected as his toned chest heaved up and down against you and his muscly arm draped mindlessly over your waist.

You didn't want to move, but your leg became numb after some time. You shifted in your place slightly to make it more comfortable, only to feel a strong hand grip your hips in place almost instantly.

"Careful." Buggy's low and raspy voice whispered, almost as if warning you about some danger.

And there was a danger indeed. Having your body so close to his was torture enough, but if you so much as shifted in place you'd be rubbing yourself against him - and the clown wasn't sure how far this newfound restraint could go.

"Sorry..." You apologised, thinking your movements had woken him up.

"Don't be..." He mumbled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your perfume.

Weeks went by from that day, and the two of you got to know each other intimately, but Buggy was hard to read. There were times where it seemed you were the light of his day and the reason for him to breathe, but there were others where your image seemed to be the Captain's worst nightmare.

It all came to a climax on a day where Buggy was having a particular hard time coming face to face with his feelings.

"Buggy!? What is wrong with you!?"

"Stop fucking following me around!"

You didn't understand the sudden shift in behaviour, but quite honestly neither did he.

The Captain was obviously not used to having feelings, nevermind dealing with them. He didn't know what to do or how to behave, all he knew was that he wanted you in an obsessive, animalistic way. Everything Buggy did, every step he took... You were on his mind. You were a constant. He couldn't stop thinking of your smile, of your voice, of your smell, of your body...

It was driving him insane, and most of all, it was driving him insane the fact that he didn't know what to do, so he just did what he knew how to do best: get angry and lash out.

Buggy was a master of self-sabotage, and as he yelled at you he knew very well that he was making a mistake, almost as if the real Captain was inside, screaming, banging and begging his body to stop betraying him, but he couldn't.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" You yelled with tears in your eyes.

"Or what!?" Buggy challenged, his voice raspy from yelling, as he finally turned around to face you.

His face showed anger and disgust, but his eyes conveyed a completely different message, one of sorrow and regret.

You looked at the desk next to the man, where his gun was. You grabbed it and, pulling the safety trigger, placed the barrel between his eyes.

"If I ever so much as annoy you, feel free to shoot me dead." You said, repeating Buggy's speech the night he had brought you to the ship "You're annoying me. You're making me angry, actually, which is arguably worse."

"Then shoot me."

If there was something you'd learned in your previous relationship, was to read emotions beyond words. You could see it in Buggy's eyes, it was obvious... He didn't mean what he was saying, he didn't mean to act this way. It didn't hurt any less to know he didn't mean it, but you at least wanted to know...

"Why?"

"Shoot me." Buggy repeated, his voice shaking every so slightly as your question had caused him to face everything he had been avoiding.

"Why." You asked once more, adamantly this time.

Buggy threw his hands up in frustration and groaned, taking a violent step closer to you.

"Because you're all I think about! Day and night, I can't stop thinking about you. There isn't a single thing that occupies my mind other than you. You are all that I've ever needed and all that I've ever wanted and you change me I-I'm different around you and I'm vulnerable and I'm scared!" The Captain was screaming like a madman getting tortured, fighting the side that wanted to shut you out and walk away and the side that wanted him to fall to his knees, beg for mercy and confess his love for you. He knew what he felt, even though he desperately tried to ignore it, but saying it out loud made it... real.

The gun made a loud sound that echoed in the room when you let it fall by your feet, so you could cup both his cheeks.

"Buggy... Why would you be scared? Have I done something to you that made you feel like you can't trust me?"

The man slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. He dipped his head, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him tightly - you knew, after the short time you had spent together, that that was how he seeked some sort of comfort, Buggy turned into a little kid sometimes, that needed support and reassurance, and that was his way of asking for it.

"I don't want to leave you, Buggy, you've been good to me. But you can't treat me like this..."

"I'm... I'm sorry." His voice was shaky, a couple sobs here and there, and muffled from his head being buried in your shoulder "I trusted one person, once and he... betrayed me. And I didn't like him as much as I like you, not even close. I'm scared... Please don't leave me, I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry for yelling at you, I'm-"

You shut him up by lifting his head and giving him a kiss. It was simple and no longer than five seconds, but you'd both swear the world was spinning and fireworks were going off.

Buggy's big, green, teary eyes were staring at you when you pulled away. Once he processed what happened, the Captain grabbed your face and brought it close for another kiss. And then another, and another, and another - until he was out of breath from kissing and you were out of breath from giggling.

"I'm forgiven?" The man asked, still holding your face.

"You are forgiven, Buggy. I'd never, ever hurt you. And if I do, you can shoot me dead." You said, mimicking his speech.

He laughed and kissed you once more, a slower, deeper kiss.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Buggy asked, running his hand through your hair.

"We can be crazy together..." You replied, your eyes looking between his eyes and lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"That sounds like a plan I can get behind..." His voice trailed into a whisper as his head leaned to the side, the space between their lips slowly closing.

What started out as another innocent kiss gradually developed into a heated mess of tongues and saliva. Surprisingly, Buggy was very vocal, and there was no telling if it was the thigh between your legs or his needy whimpers that turned you on more, but you were sure feeling a different type of heat spread through your body.

You two pulled away from the kiss. His makeup was messy, some of it smeared on your face, his lips were red and plump from the biting and his hungry eyes searched your face.

"Please... can I fuck you?" His needy, whimpery and hushed voice nearly made your knees falter.

It was pathetic how he could ask you anything in that tone and you'd fall to your knees and you'd comply.

"Do it. Please do it Buggy, fuck me."

His hands trailed down to grip your ass with force, bringing your crotch to press against his. You felt his very hard cock press against you as he laughed in a raspy voice.

"Careful."

Those words were familiar... When you two slept together the first night... He wasn't angry you'd woken him up! He was warning you because he was horny.

You playfully traced his jawline with your nail.

"Do you worst." You whispered in his ear, teasing him.

Buggy pushed you to lay down on the bed. One of his knees pushed your legs open as his hand found your clothed pussy under your skirt. The Captain's lips paid attention to your neck as you slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head to claw at his back.

You were used to being the one doing all the work, so the amount of attention he gave you felt overwhelming - a very good type of overwhelming.

"Buggy- that feels good... So good..." You moaned.

Buggy chuckled as he kissed the red spots of skin on your neck he had kissed and sucked. His lips approached your ear and he softly bit your earlobe.

"I'm going to show you how a real man fucks."

The Captain's index finger hooked on the front of your panties and slowly brought them down. Two of his fingers ran along your exposed folds and his eyes widened. He brought them up to his face and separated them, showing you how they glistened with your juices.

"Already?" He paused and chuckled "I'm going to have fun."

Buggy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you two around, sitting you on his waist.

"Take it all off." The man said, gesturing to your clothes "And then sit on my face."

You had began to unbutton your blouse, but you stopped and blushed.

"I- I don't want to hurt you, maybe we could-"

You yelped as one of his hands came into contact with your ass harshly.

"I don't care if you suffocate me. Sit. On. My. Face."

You bit your lip and nodded, obeying his orders.

Buggy groaned and cursed under his breath as your pieces of clothing slowly came off one by one, and as your pussy hovered over his face, he swore he could've cum from the sight alone.

When you didn't fully lay your body weight on him, Buggy wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your cunt down onto his face.

"Shit!" You shrieked and gripped his hair in your hands as your hips started moving along to the movements of his tongue.

"So this is what it's supposed to feel like-" You tought, too intoxicated in pleasure to blurt out anything that wasn't a moan.

Buggy's groans sent a different (yet very good) feeling through your body, and it only left you craving for more. You wanted him to keep going, but you wanted more, you needed more - as much as he could give you.

"More- please- I need more Buggy- I need you to fuck me." You begged between whimpers and sighs.

Buggy took his sweet time finishing his business, too pussy drunk to give it up immediately as you asked. Once he managed to peel himself away from between your legs, one of his strong arms wrapped around you and flipped you both.

His lips were quick to attatch to yours, and you could taste yourself in the Captain's tongue.

One of your hands cupped his face as the other worked on the zipper of his pants. Once you were able to slide your hand inside, you weren't surprised to find he was a fan of going commando.

Buggy pulled away and whined when you gripped his hard cock and swiped your thumb along the slit. His eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure and he was breathing hard.

"Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?" You asked, your voice dripping in fake innocence which caused him to chuckle.

Buggy kissed you softly.

"I'd love to princess, but I won't last. And I really want to fuck you."

"Then fuck me, Captain."

In one swift and quick move, Buggy placed the tip of his cock in your entrance and pushed inside of you, filling you up to the brim with his shaft.

His movements were smooth and proficient - it was almost as if his cock was made for you.

Your fingernails dug into Buggy's biceps, making him whine a little louder as his hips snapped against yours and his lips left small bites and open-mouth kisses wherever they could reach.

The Captain tried to be gentle with his touch, but he was so desperate for your body... it was nearly impossible. His fingers squeezed your sides, your ass and your thighs - he was in love with every curve of your body.

"You feel good... So good..." You admitted, breathlessly.

"Do I? Say my name."

"Buggy-" You moaned.

"Louder! I want them all to hear you."

"Buggy!" You yell-whimpered, as his cock hit a particular spot inside of you.

"That's right princess..." The clown bent over to bite your neck "This is what real cock feels like, from someone who knows how to fuck."

His whimpers and moans were sent straight to your pussy, who seemed to pulsate harder whenever his mouth hung open and the sinful sounds left past his lips.

Buggy seemed to read your mind: as you felt a nice feeling bubble up inside of you, one of his fingers sneaked between your bodies and rubbed your clit - a firm yet soft touch.

"I'm gonna need you to cum for me pretty, 'cause I can't last much longer with you squeezing me like that." Buggy confessed, looking down at his cock disappearing inside of you.

"Almost... I'm almost..." You breathlessly told him.

Buggy mantained his movements, working his hips and fingers until your back arched and your toes curled. The Captain had seen many places, many views and many people, but nothing came close to the beauty of your face when you climaxed, yelling his name.

The clown's mouth hung open, his brows furrowed and he moaned as he pulled out and came on your stomach, the hot cum splattering in different places.

"Guess I gotta clean up..." You said with a giggle.

Buggy looked up at you, with the mischiveous grin you'd learned to love and bent down. His tongue swiped across your abdomen, collecting every last drop of cum. He then pressed his lips against yours, dumping his cum into your mouth.

"There," The Captain said, stroking your red cheek "all cleaned up."

You could only giggle and press another kiss to his lips, as you shifted your positions so you could drape your leg over him and lay your head on his chest.

The two of you closed your eyes, his hand playing with your hair as you listened to his heartbeat.

"If you ever raise your voice at me again I will actually shoot you."

[kairiscorner]

when grump meets grump <3

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel x grumpy reader

now if there was anyone else feared upon in the spider society that wasn't named 'miguel o'hara', it was you. the moment you joined the spider society, everyone had a new face to fear.

every day was a challenge for the rest of the spider society, even jess and peter b couldn't go to your quarters without knocking and stating their name and business for coming there. if they wasted your time with an easy picking mission, or a bad joke, or at worst... a childish prank, they'd be squishes spiders in the next minute–or make that in the next five seconds.

you were serious about your job, no nonsense was allowed on your watch. you reminded everyone of a certain leader who was very particular with how things were run at HQ, and how fun was virtually dead when he was doing things his way.

but surprisingly...

"i hate him." you seethed as you clenched your fists, your eyebrows were furrowed as you scrunched up your nose, gritting your teeth. peter b spit out his coffee all over the table by accident, jess fetching a few napkins to clean it up.

"you... you hate miguel?" peter b asked, exasperated and... bewildered, if anything else. you nodded, slowly, as your eye twitched just the slightest at the mention of that damned man's name.

"he thinks he's the shit. honestly, what's wrong with him? why does he make everything about him? you've seen how he plans out the missions, he always delivers the finishing blow. he never lets anyone else do the work, it's always him, him, him!" you exclaim as you got up and threw the table down out of rage.

peter b yelped as jess grabbed him and brought the both of them to the side. they were... extremely surprised you didn't see eye-to-eye with miguel. they always believed that if they weren't miguel's closest allies, you'd be. but no. your rage and hatred for miguel subverted their expectations.

"so glad i never let them hold mayday..." peter b murmured. "well be glad if they don't hear you right no–" jess was telling him, until you turned your head with a scowl at them. "i could hear everything you two were saying, y'know." you warned them, which was their cue to leave.

you cooled down after a few hours, beating anomalies without anyone else holding you down or telling you what to do always hit the spot. but soon, the dreaded hour came.

a holographic image of miguel appeared on your watch, you tried your hardest not to look angry nor disgusted at the sight of him, even when masked. "report back to my office at HQ, we got a situation here." he said curtly, and before you could even ask what was so important that he had to call you, he hung up immediately.

you sighed and groaned in frustration as you opened up a portal to head back to HQ. the moment you stepped back into HQ, you were in miguel's office. you crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow.

"talk to me." you said in a monotonous voice as miguel turned around to look at you, confused. "why're you here?" he asked. you looked at him in disbelief. "o'hara, don't fuck with me. you called me earlier, dumbass." you reminded him, getting a little pissed off at him playing dumb.

miguel looked at you now in disbelief, turning around fully to face you as his platform slowly descended. you tapped your foot impatiently like a cartoon character. "last time i checked, you weren't from earth-8311. what's got you so impatient over nothing?" he asked in a tired voice.

you groaned. "you. you called me? jeez, i thought you of all people would know it's not hilarious to waste another person's valuable time with such stupid, insipid little pranks!" you exclaimed, angry, and a little embarrassed because miguel really did seem like he didn't know what you were talking about. could you have been wrong, for once in your life?

miguel put a hand up to stop your fuming self from framing him from any more allegations of him summoning you to his office. "i didn't call anyone, i was out fighting more variants of the vulture with jess and a new recruit. i didn't call for anyone else, except... dammit." miguel breathed out as he put a hand to his side and pinched the bridge of his nose with furrowed eyebrows.

"lyla!" miguel called for the ai assistant in an irritated voice. lyla showed up a little disheveled, she soon refreshed herself and came back looking more presentable. "what?" she asked as she looked at miguel, who looked at her a little... desperately.

"did you... did you call them?" miguel was asking lyla in a hushed voice, almost as if he did not want you to hear what they were talking about even if it concerned you.

lyla looked at miguel, then at you, then back at miguel, then back at you, then she smiled. she shrugged. "i did." she said in a cheeky, unenergetic voice.

miguel rubbed both of his temples and shut his eyes when lyla admitted she called you. you pit your hands on your hips and raises an eyebrow, still unsure of what was going on.

"but why?" miguel asked in a slightly nervous tone. "you know never to call their line unless... it's absolutely necessary." he reminded lyla, who laughed a little at that.

"i was just doing what you told me to do, test out your automated answering system for video calls. it was arbitrary, just so happened to call them with an automated response. no biggie." she said with a smile and a shrug as miguel looked like he was about to combust out of frustration towards her.

"so what is it? why'd you call?" you asked in an expectant voice, looking at miguel who tried to appear brave, but instead, appeared remorseful.

"i... i didn't call you here." he admitted, looking at you then back away. "lyla was testing out the beta stages of a project i have, um, it was an arbitrary choice, really, just so happened to call you by accident and didn't get to tell you it was a beta test. i'm sorry, for wasting your time and energy for coming here." he apologized.

your eyes widened as you looked at him. "you... apologized?" you asked with a tone of surprise. "you, miguel o'hara, apologized to me?" you asked incredulously as lyla was taking videos of this moment.

miguel put his hands to his hips, hung his head, and nodded. "yeah." he said with a click of his tongue as he looked back up at you. "i'm sorry." he said, and though it was hard to distinguish it from sarcasm or sincerity, miguel really was being sincere with his apology for wasting your time.

you stared at him, you refused to believe he was being honest. "and why would you apologize? i thought everyone here was expected to bow down to you, mr. o'hara." you asked, putting up your cold front.

"well... if you must know, um..." miguel stuttered, trying to find the right words, when lyla finally spoke up on his behalf. "your badassness scares him shitless. he hates having to piss you off because he wants to keep living." she said, and as miguel lunged forward to shut her up, lyla moved from one side of his to the other. "that, and he thinks you're super hot, so there. toodles." she said as she logged off as miguel was going to lunge at her again. he cussed under his breath as you took in what lyla said.

"is it true?" you asked him, your tone softening. he turned around to face you, and looked at you with a nervous expression. "do i... scare you?" you ask miguel as you approached him. he loomed over you, but you always found ways to subdue your opponents–miguel never wanted you to see him as one. in fact, he wanted you to look at him as the complete opposite, really.

"um... yes." he admitted, looking down at the ground. "but, you also find me attractive?" you ask, which sends a warmth through miguel's cheeks. "i... i kinda do." he mutters as he looks away from you.

you put a hand on his chin as you made him look at you, gently turning his face to look at you. "oh, well don't just look away from someone after you confess to them, that's very rude." you said with a joking air.

miguel looked at you, his eyes wide as he saw, for the first time, a playful look on your face that had no malice, no anger, no... grump in it. "i may be grumpy and serious, but that doesn't mean i'm heartless." you tell him as you squeeze his cheeks together.

"man, who'd've thought a big, commanding man such as you was actually scared of little old me? now that just makes me blush." you said with a small laugh as a rosy blush slowly appeared on your cheeks, miguel's blush deepening.

"so, do you... do you feel the same way?" he asks you, pretty hopeful of your answer. you shrug. "i did just admit to jess and peter b how much i hated the way you made everything in missions about you... but maybe you did that because you hate having someone telling you what to do. i hate that too, actually." you say with a grin.

"i kinda like the cut of your jib, o'hara. maybe... maybe you and i can come around to a compromise on our, well..." you trailed off as you searched for the right words.

"attitude problems." lyla chimed in as she disappeared just as immediately as she came in. miguel groaned as you chuckled. miguel smiled up at you. "yeah, maybe we can... take a break from being such grumps." he said.

"hey, you're the grump–i'm always the right one, you know that." you tell him as you give him a sly look.

"is that right now?" miguel asked sarcastically as he smiled at you.

maybe both of your grumpiness would only be a sometime thing now, hopefully.

tags!! @miguelswifey04

[gay-dorito-dust]

I can imagine a demon reader changing from bad to good after getting catch and dosent want to be with bill and his craziness but still visits him in theroprimson (sorry I might have spelled it wrong)

‘Oh how the might have fallen.’ You cooed as you sat across from bill, a glass screen separating you from him, but you could feel the unbridled anger and betrayal radiating off of Bill from where you sat.

‘You betrayed me and for what? A family of flesh bags?!’ Bill exclaimed. ‘We could’ve ruled together but you let those pine twins get inside your head.’

You scoffed as you folded your arms, the bells on your outfit jingle softly as they did. ‘You called that ruling? I call it madness.’ You remained him as you saw that instead of healing, his broken, fractured body had only gotten worse as it started to stretch across his eye.

He didn’t want to heal, he wanted to remain broken as it meant he didn’t have to relive the memories that he swore to leave behind in the past as he intended, moments that he didn’t want to remember for a reason or other.

‘You were born from madness! You were the madness demon!’ Bill cried as he slammed his hands on the glass but you remained unfazed, knowing this was but Bill’s attempts of getting inside your head in hopes that you’d break him out, however even if he did you’d probably get admitted into Theraprism with him for all eternity in the process.

‘Thanks for reminding me of my origins, what else is new.’ You said sarcastically. You had the uncanny ability to send anyone into a state of madness. it was an ability you used and abused during your time with Bill and his henchmaniacs, way before jheselbruam had decided that she had enough and wanted to reform, but not before she cryptically told you that you’d follow in her footsteps soon enough during a pivotal moment that could change everything. You didn’t know what she meant by that but now as you sat across from the demon you once called your friend, you now understood that Bill was more unhinged then you realised, you were ready to move on with the Pines Family but wanted to see bill once last time before you did.

‘You could’ve been more had you stayed with me and not became soft and let the power of friendship, rainbows and sprinkle kittens tell you that you could be better, when with me you could’ve been far worse!’ Bill said as he felt his hatred for you grow the longer you looked at him with a blank stare, as though you could see through him and his bullshit, like you knew that everything he said was a lie that he told himself as much as he told everyone else; You weren’t scared of him anymore, and Bill didn’t know how to handle that as he was far more use to being in the position of power in your dynamic.

‘In your eye I am already worse.’ You began as you leaned forward, ‘I might as well be a human in demon skin for all you’re aware but here’s the thing I wanted to you dead after everything you’ve put me through, but as Ford once told me there are fates far worse then death and you were more deserving of that fate, it’s almost as though you were destined to end up here regardless and that’s the funniest joke of all.’ You finished with a cackle, the bells of your outfit laughing alongside you.

‘You’re talking to Fordsy?’ Bill asked, now intrigued.

‘Yeah,and I can see why you had that weird one sided situationship with him all that time ago, he’s quite the catch when you get to know him.’ You casually shrug your shoulders as you could see Bill trying to use this to his advantage somehow, something that Ford has told you that he would do and you were more than prepared to shatter his expectations. ‘I’m not going to use him Bill, he’s moved on from you and has found peace with his family, like he should’ve before you came into his life.’ You added in a low, protective growl.

Bill perks up. ‘You’re protecting them from me?’ He asked aghast, hand on his orange prison suit. ‘Have they really corrupted you that much that you’d go out of your way to protect those short life freaks?’

You straightened your posture as you glared at your friend. ‘I only came here to say goodbye, not be interrogated by the demon who’ll come back as something ridiculous like a rainbow shrimp or a fungal cloud, or better yet a butterfly that I can kill for the hell of it.’ You spat as you looked at the time, you were going to be late to Mabel’s arts and crafts session if you kept indulging in this psychopath and his antics. ‘And would you look at that, my time here is done.’

Bill’s eyes widened. ‘Wait! Don’t go! Don’t your dare-‘

‘Goodbye Bill, have fun with therapy.’ You said before snapping your fingers and disappearing, the only thing you heard before you reappeared outside of the Mystery Shack was the sound of Bill’s outrage and hows he’d get back at you and the pines family, but as far as you were aware Bill wasn’t going anywhere for a long, long time.

[sempersirens]

the fig tree | rotten

pairing: therapist!joel x f!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. discussion of heavy and potentially triggering topics such as sa, self-harm, infertility, various mental illnesses, self-hatred and drug use. these topics are only mentioned and do not occur in real-time.

chapter summary: a twenty-something, seemingly lost cause, meets her match in the form of psychotherapist: dr. joel miller.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

updates: @sempersirenswrites

series masterlist

Maybe it was time to accept you were never as good as you'd always thought you'd been.

For four long years, you had spent most of your waking hours dissecting epic poetry and papyrology.

Still, the most your degree had done for you was rouse a satisfying disappointment from your mother’s side of the family when they realised you weren’t actually going to be that kind of doctor.

Not to say such in a self-deprecation; you hardly suffered from any semblance of an imposter syndrome. Your mother used to frequently remind you that you were far too vain to not believe in yourself.

It was more of a philosophical framework. Platonic realism. Knowing your muted beauty could earn you a free drink from below-average men who felt their trousers tighten when you addressed them through your eyelashes.

But it wasn't an obvious enough beauty for the attention of the men you imagined exchanging bodily fluids with between stops on the underground.

Besides, you had been a student of Classical Studies; a degree that doesn’t require the intellectual strain of learning Latin or Ancient Greek. The inclusive way for people like you, having attended a run-down state-funded school, to get a glimpse into the Bullingdon boys' and grammar schoolgirls’ fallback plans.

It wasn't even that you disliked Classics; you'd borderline gotten off on reading plays written by men about wicked women; but that was because the brilliant women were always the wicked ones.

You particularly enjoyed the assumptions men made about the female condition – how women were too wet, too porous; couldn’t keep their wombs from wandering. And assumptions they were. No Greek physician ever sliced a woman from chin to cunt to confirm their hypotheses. Although, ancient men hadn't been all too familiar with the insides of a woman anyway.

Sometimes, you thought you would quite simply die if you were reduced to only understanding people through your assumptions of them.

It was just that you could never stop thinking about what people thought. It was all you could ever think about. You wanted to peel people's skulls apart and scream at their horribly grey frontal lobe:

Are you ok? Have I done something to upset you? Do you still love me? Do I look like someone that has been raped? Do you think that girl we just walked past has a firmer ass than me? Do you like my new bangs?

For a short period of time, you'd been desperate to know how your therapist felt and thought of you. There is a sick irony in baring your bones to a stranger in the reclined chair opposite you who never even takes off their cardigan.

You needed to know if your traumas made him sad, or if he saw things that made him think of you outside of your sessions. You supposed he both pitied and admired you in a twisted, surrogate-daughter kind of way.

Then again, he probably wouldn’t have been a very good therapist did he not pity his clients.

At one point you thought you might be in love with him.

You'd met weekly in his high-ceiling office on a busy street. It was a romantic setting to unload twenty-four years of trauma to a kind man wearing a knitted cardigan. The sun would peak through clouds and shine onto the both of you through two large windows, between which sat a Japanese peace lily.

You soon realised he was just the first man to let you speak uninterrupted.

You spoke at him mostly, finishing observations that had been years in the making with “Does that make sense?” Even though you knew it made sense. You were certain, actually, that everything you had articulated came from somewhere deeper inside of you than any man could reach. You just couldn't leave it hanging there like an exposed nerve.

Maybe it was because he didn't speak much that you liked him. Sometimes he would offer anecdotes or remedies for PTSD-induced panic attacks that you both knew you would never use.

In most sessions, you had simply basked in the divinity of being listened to. You wondered if this was how devout Catholics like your grandmother felt at confession, or perhaps it was how all of your ex-boyfriends had felt.

You weren't even particularly attracted to him. He had been ten years older than you, and when your sessions first began, you'd been casually fucking someone a year older than him – but he didn't need to know that.

There were a lot of things you'd decided he didn't need to know. Like the fact you snorted cocaine until your nose bled, sliced into your thighs a couple of evenings a week, and let men use your body to masturbate as a feeble attempt to reclaim your sexuality - as if it had ever been anyone's for the taking.

Had he known the dirtier parts of your life, you feared he would have crossed out the word victim in his black Moleskin notebook and replaced it with bystander.

Maybe he would think you were a pathological liar and diagnose you with a personality disorder. This was something you'd been warned about by the first friend you had made at university.

“My mother is a therapist, you know. Don’t tell them you cut yourself or that you’ve told anyone you cut yourself – they’ll diagnose you with BPD.”

“But I’ve told you.”

“Trust me. They’ll put you on an SSRI and you’ll never be able to orgasm again.”

You were freshly eighteen and had never had a real orgasm anyway, but this terrified you enough to reel in your catalogue of symptoms for the GP appointment you had scheduled later that day.

In the end, you'd buckled and sobbed as the doctor sat adjacent to you. You didn’t mention the self-harming or the suicidal thoughts, but did tell her that you didn’t know where to go from here.

She'd slid a leaflet from the university's self-help website across the table before pushing her chair back and motioning toward the door.

“Call 999 if things get worse," she had said. "But let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that point. A&E is very overwhelmed at the moment.”

So you got on with it. Boats against the current, or whatever. You made the hurt so small and buried it so deep within you and swore you'd never let anyone get close enough to pick at the stray thread to your undoing.

And for a little while it worked. You became what you knew you should be; you presented your face for fucking and never let the door slam on your way out.

These days, you'd felt as though you were slowly becoming rotten.

It started on the surface; a bizarre case of adult acne that no dermatologist could diagnose for love nor money. Blood tests, topical steroids, antibiotics, potentially-baby-deforming drugs. You tried them all to little avail. In the end, it was simply the passing of time that had rid you of the rot.

Next, it had been your womb. Decomposing from the inside out. Your body had made the decision for you that goodness couldn't form in your guts.

The final straw had, embarrassingly, been your heart.

You hated to say it aloud. So much so that you hadn't. But it had been a quiet promise of yours; one you'd kept quietly close to your chest - that your suffering would never turn you ugly.

But here you were, alone and swearing at the wind, the rage beneath your skin growing like a tumour.

You hated it.

You hated yourself.

You hated that you were angry but had never been taught how to be angry, because anger wasn't a pretty emotion; it was one that should be starved and kept in the corner of your wardrobe to rot like black mould.

So here you stood: before a Victorian townhouse with your scarf furiously fighting the wind, droplets of rain threatening your freshly straightened hair, scanning various names scrawled on the building's buzzer.

S. PHYSIOTHERAPY

A & R SOLICITORS

J. MILLER PSYCHOTHERAPY

You bit the inside of your cheek and ducked further into the doorway, pressing the buzzer for the last option.

A voice had answered quicker than you'd anticipated, soon followed by a harsh buzz of the intercom.

"Come on up."

Dr. Miller's office was on the third floor.

You huffed, struggling with the combination of the stairs and attempting to wrangle your wet coat from your back. Amidst your struggle, you hear a door open somewhere above you, followed by a couple of soft and slow footsteps.

Your chin instinctively lifted toward the source of the noise, feet carrying you round and round the spiral staircase.

Light poured around his silhouette from the window behind him. It was ridiculous, actually. The sight was almost holy.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way up toward him. You felt as though you were on your knees beneath him, transfixed in supplication.

The sleeves of his blue cotton shirt were haphazardly pushed up just before his elbows, arms outstretched and fingers wrapped around the wooden bannister.

You were supposed to be actually trying with this one, not fantasising about the ways the veins in his arms probably bulged with his hand around your throat.

After being politely let go by your previous therapist, you'd promised yourself that the colleague he'd recommended to you, Dr. Miller, would be the one to fix you for good.

"Hello." He nodded, not quite managing a smile.

He reached a hand toward you, which you shook with the little strength left in your body.

"Hello." You tried your best to imitate his stoic cadence, your hand still tightly in his.

You let him break the handshake first, playing a petulant, one-sided game to see how quick he would be to scare.

"After you." He gestured to the room behind him. "Take a seat wherever you feel most comfortable."

"If there is any cowboy paraphernalia in that room I am not paying for this session."

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows knitted together, no sign of humour registering on his face.

"Your accent - it was a joke. I mean, I paid already anyway." You fumbled your words awkwardly. "Jokes are always much funnier when you explain them."

He cocked his head slightly. Hesitant to embarrass yourself further, you saw yourself into his office.

The room was dim for a space endowed with Victorian-style floor-to-ceiling windows. It felt like you could get lost in it, hide away, tuck yourself into a corner and be lost for days.

"I have your notes from Dr. Hughes." He said.

"Anything juicy?" You asked, still surveying the room.

You couldn't put your finger on the specifics of his scent, but it was familiar; like passing a man in the street wearing the same aftershave as your father, or a boyfriend you hadn't seen for years.

"I'd like to figure that out myself."

You'd eventually settled on the armchair positioned opposite his own.

You had briefly wondered if this was a test, that he would be psychoanalysing whether you chose the armchair or the adjacent sofa.

Maybe you'd failed already.

For the majority of the session, you'd gone through the necessary motions of admin, confidentiality, and what you eventually wanted to get out of therapy.

"I don't have the ability to fix you, y'know that right?" His question had caught you off guard.

"I know that." You'd replied meekly.

"It's just, I don't know what kind of promises Dr. Hughes made you. We trained together, you see. He had always been more, how do I put this, hopeful than I am."

"Oh wow. Forty minutes into our first session and you're already hopeless?" You were only partly joking.

"I'm a big believer in transparency, and I can see you were meeting on and off for a few years. I'm just intrigued as to what your end goal here is."

You bit down on your cheek, swallowing the ember of rage that was burning in your throat.

"Do you think I do this for fun? Carve out an hour a week to relive my deepest, darkest traumas?"

"Not at all. I just find it interesting that after almost three years of therapy, you still can't use the word rape. You've referred to it as the thing that happened four times already."

The rot crept up your throat, threatening to pour out of your mouth and fill the room with the ugliness that grew inside of you.

"What is this, some kind of tough love therapy?" You scoffed. Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

"It can be whatever you want it to be."

He was kind of annoying, actually.

The two of you sat in silence, defiantly holding eye contact with one another to see who would be the first to break. And when he finally spoke, it was more of a statement than a question.

"That's time. I'll see you at the same time next week."

"How are you so sure I'll come back?"

He smiled for the first time that afternoon.

"I'm not."