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lesbehonestsstuff · 11 hours

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I apologize for what I’m about to do 😀 remember when I posted about Casey going to visit Alex’s mom after Alex died ? well I took it and ran with it and out came a heartbreaking fic so here you go

Word count: 3882

Also @wild-fleurs you put the idea in my head to write this so now we can both be sad

Casey was trying, she was trying her best to keep going, but most days she couldn't even find the strength to get out of bed. Today though she had managed, managed to pull herself from the nest of grief she had made of their room, and somehow stumbled uptown. She stood in front of the heavy oak door, the night chill creeping through her bones despite the wool coat she had hastily thrown on. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to bother Caroline. She felt hollowed out, like there was nothing left of her but grief and guilt, and showing up at this hour—it felt selfish. But where else could she go?

She had no one else in the city. Her parents didn’t talk to her anymore, her siblings lived in other states, she was all alone. Except for Caroline. Caroline, who had been stoic the day of the funeral letting tear after tear fall when her daughter's casket was lowered to the ground. Casey had been beside her and she barely managed to keep it together before she excused herself, sobs clawing out of her throat as she fled needing to get as far from the cemetery as she could.

She felt bad about it later but she couldn’t handle it and couldn't be there on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. She hadn’t seen Caroline since and quite frankly she didn’t know why she was currently standing in front of the brownstone; she just knew she had to get out of their apartment. Away from the reminders of what her life used to look like, Alex marking every part of it

Her hand hovered a second longer before she tapped lightly. The sound was so soft she worried it hadn’t registered, but within moments, the door creaked open. Caroline Cabot stood in the soft lamplight, dressed in her silk robe, her face apparently calm, but there was an exhaustion born not from physical tiredness, but from the endless weight of grief that Casey could see in her features. Caroline so poised graceful could very well be the only person who might understand what Casey was feeling.

"Casey," Caroline’s voice was low, carrying with it a warmth that broke something inside of Casey. That made her ache because not even her wife dying had gotten her own mother to at least pick up the phone and check on her. "What are you doing here, darling? It's so late."

“I—I didn’t know where else to go,” Casey whispered, the words catching in her throat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the threshold, unable to meet Caroline’s gaze. She was begining to regret her decision to come intrude on Caroline’s night.

Caroline however stepped aside immediately, the silent invitation giving Casey the slightest of comfort. "Come inside, sweetheart."

Casey walked in, her body stiff and uncertain, the warm, familiar smell of the house wrapping around her, pulling her back to all the times she and Alex had spent here. For Casey it had been awkward at first. The lavish home occupied by people she could never begin to pretend she could be. It had made her feel inferior but slowly the more Alex invited her over to see her mother in law the more comfortable Casey got. She started loving the place, always warm, always lingering with the smell of tea. But tonight, the memories were sharp, jagged. They cut into her, not as much as in her apartment but still so incredibly painful.

As Caroline closed the door behind them, Casey found herself shaking from the cold. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You could never bother me,” Caroline said, her tone as soft as the hands she placed gently on Casey’s arm. “Sit down, dear.”

Casey shuffled toward the couch, she sank into the plush cushions, feeling small in the vast, elegant living room. The space was perfect, just like Caroline. Every detail, from the well-curated art to the perfectly arranged flowers on the mantel, it all showed Caroline’s refined taste. But tonight, it all felt like a reminder of how she didn’t belong here anymore. Without Alex, this world of grace and perfection seemed alien to her once more.

"I couldn’t stay at the apartment," Casey mumbled, her voice barely audible. "Everything... everything there reminds me of her."

Caroline nodded, sitting next to Casey, her face showing nothing but understanding. She had learned, in her grief, how to master that particular expression—the one that said, ‘I feel it too, but we must go on.’ But now, watching Casey, something felt wrong. Casey wasn’t just grieving; she was unraveling, bit by bit, and Caroline could see it in every hollowed-out shadow on her face, in the way her clothes hung loosely on her frame.

“Have you eaten?” Caroline asked gently, though she already knew the answer.

Casey shook her head. "I’m not very hungry anymore."

Caroline's lips pressed into a thin line, not wanting to push her, but unwilling to let her slip further away. "You should eat something. Just a little."

Casey barely responded, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the room. The emptiness in her eyes made Caroline worry. She looked so much smaller than she remembered—Alex had always told her how strong Casey was, how she could take on the world if she wanted to. But now? Now, she looked fragile, as if a strong wind could blow her away.

“You look exhausted, my dear. Why don’t you close your eyes for a little while, while I make dinner?” Caroline’s voice was soft, her hand stroking Casey’s hair slowly.

“I... I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her,”

“You need to try, your body needs it so just close your eyes and i'll stay here with you

Caroline watched as Casey’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out into soft, broken sighs. She looked so fragile, so heartbreakingly lost. Caroline’s own grief was constantly threatening to swallow her whole. But having Casey here, taking care of her,maybe it could give her something to hold on to, some piece of Alex still in her life.

Caroline reached for a nearby blanket and draped it gently over Casey’s thin form satisfyed when she saw her daughter in laws features relax. She could see how much weight Casey had lost, the dark circles under her eyes noticeable against her pale skin. Caroline felt her heart twist with worry. This girl, this beautiful, broken woman who had loved her daughter so fiercely, was fading before her eyes. And Caroline couldn’t let that happen. Not when Casey was a part of Alex.

She disappeared into the kitchen, her slippered feet barely making a sound. The act of preparing food, something warm, comforting was automatic. Tomato soup, the kind Alex had loved, the kind Caroline had made for years. As the broth simmered, the scent of garlic and thyme filled the house. It was strange, how the simple act of cooking could still feel grounding in the midst of everything, giving her back a sense of a routine she hadnt had since her daughter died.

Casey didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but when she woke, the room was dark and quiet. Caroline was seated nearby with a cup of tea in her hands reading a book with the soft glow of a lamp. The house smelled good and her stomach rumbled craving whatever Caroline had cooked.

Alex was still gone.

But Caroline… Caroline was still here.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep” Casey mumbled, attempting to sit up, but Caroline was next to her in a moment and stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Caroline said softly. “You needed the rest.”

She gave her a small smile and disappeared quickly into the kitchen bringing back a tray with soup and a grilled cheese. “You’ll have to forgive me dear, much like Alex. I'm not very good in the kitchen” Caroline said softly, setting the tray on the coffee table. "I know it feels like you can’t but you need to try. Just a few bites, sweetheart. Please.”

Casey’s eyes flicked to the bowl, the steam rising from the soup, but she didn’t move. “I can’t. It feels like I can’t swallow it down. She’s gone, and I...”

Caroline’s chest tightened. She sat down beside Casey, her voice steady but full of compassion. "She wouldn’t want you to starve yourself, to stop taking care of yourself. You know how stubborn Alex could be. She would hate to see you like this, Casey."

“I know.” Casey’s voice cracked, her body curling in on itself as though the weight of her sorrow was too much to bear. "I know she would, but I don’t know how to be without her. I don’t know how to keep going.”

Caroline reached out, gently brushing a tear from Casey’s cheek. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to take it one moment at a time.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy,” Casey admitted after a long pause. “Like I’ll never feel anything but this… numbness. Like I’m forgetting her already. Isn’t that horrible?”

Caroline looked at her with soft eyes, her own grief rippling through the room. “No, it’s not horrible. It’s part of the pain, darling. But you’re not forgetting her. She’s with you in everything you do. Grief… it doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the love you still carry.”

Casey closed her eyes, tears spilling over her lashes as she leaned into Caroline’s shoulder, her body shaking with the sobs she had tried so hard to hold back. "I don’t know if I can do this."

“You can,” Caroline whispered, her hand cradling the back of Casey’s head. “I promise you, you can. And I’m here with you.”

"How... how do you keep it together so well?" Casey’s voice was barely more than a whisper, shaky and fragile. She didn't meet Caroline's gaze, instead staring into her bowl as though it held some hidden answer.

Caroline sighed softly, she took a deep breath, her hands resting in her lap, fingers trembling slightly. “I don't, dear.”

Casey looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion. She had always admired Caroline’s composure, the way she seemed to navigate grief with such grace, even when Casey herself was crumbling. “What do you mean? I came to check on you and you’re here comforting me.”

Caroline’s smile was faint, bittersweet, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I lost my husband years ago. That taught me how to grieve, I know what it feels like and yet it doesn’t make it any easier. I never thought I’d lose my daughter too.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she closed her eyes, as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m not strong, Casey. I struggle every day. I’m in pain every day. It’s hard to keep going because it isn’t fair that she’s gone.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as she watched Caroline, someone who had always seemed so poised, now breaking in front of her. She saw the lines of grief etched deeper into Caroline’s face, the quiet way her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her tears at bay.

“I thought losing Alexander was the hardest thing I’d ever go through,” Caroline continued, her voice tight, “but losing Alex... there are days I don’t know how I’m still standing.”

Casey reached out hesitantly, placing her hand on top of Caroline’s. The older woman squeezed back, her grip surprisingly firm, holding tightly to Casey.

“I’m sorry,” Casey whispered, guilt weighing heavily on her chest. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” Caroline interrupted softly, shaking her head. “You’re allowed to ask. And you’re allowed to feel like this.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. Caroline wiped at her tears, sniffing softly before her lips curled into a small smile.

“You know,” she started, her voice lighter now, “Alex was always so serious as a child. Proper, even. She had her nose in a book more than anything else. While other children played outside, she was inside reading, arranging her dollhouse or playing chess with her father. She was always in her own little world, so smart and stubborn.” Caroline chuckled softly, her eyes distant, lost in memories of her daughter.

Casey managed a small smile, a flash of warmth blooming in her chest. “That sounds like her.”

Caroline nodded, her gaze softening as she continued. “I knew early on that she wouldn’t end up with a boy. One day, she came home from school when she was about six years old and declared with such authority, ‘Boys are useless, Mama. They’re horrible.’” Caroline laughed, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, so did Casey.

It was a broken, quiet laugh, but it was real. The sound filled the room, easing some of the tension in the air.

Caroline smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “From that day, I had a feeling. I didn’t say anything, of course, but I always knew my daughter would end up with someone special. Someone who could match her, challenge her.” Her gaze softened as she looked at Casey. “And she found you.”

Caroline chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the stray hair from Casey’s face. “She always had such high expectations for herself. And when she met you, she told me she’d found the one”

Casey’s breath hitched in her throat, fresh tears burning her eyes. “She told you that?”

“She did,” Caroline whispered. “She loved you more than anything in this world, Casey.”

Caroline smiled faintly, wiping away a tear that had escaped down Casey’s cheek. “And you loved her more than anyone else ever could. And that makes you family.”

Casey swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion.“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. She wiped at her face quickly, trying to regain control, but it was impossible. “I miss her so much, Caroline,” she said, her voice cracking.

Caroline pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as she sobbed. “I know, dear. I know. But we have each other. We’ll get through this together.”

The weight of those words settled between them, giving Casey something solid to cling to in the storm that had become her life.

For the first time in months, in this house full of memories, Casey let herself rest.

---

In the weeks that followed, Casey’s visits became more frequent. At first, they were always at night, always after she had spent hours drowning in work or staring at the walls of her empty apartment. But soon, it became routine, Caroline would make tea, Casey would sit quietly at the table, and they would talk. Not always about Alex, but about the small things. The weather. Books. Anything to fill the space between them.

Caroline watched Casey closely during these visits, noting the slight improvements, a little more color in her cheeks, a little less tension in her shoulders, but also the lingering sadness in her eyes. Casey’s grief was still a raw wound, but at least here, in this house, she wasn’t alone.

And in taking care of Casey, Caroline found a sense of purpose again, something to ground her in the face of her own unbearable loss.

---

When Caroline began to get sick, Casey noticed before anyone else. It was in the way her steps slowed, how her voice seemed quieter, weaker. But it wasn’t until Caroline collapsed one evening that Casey’s world shattered again.

Caroline was gone by winter.

Casey stood at the grave, her eyes hollow as she stared at the fresh dirt that covered Caroline’s casket. The air was cold, biting at her cheeks, but she didn’t feel it. Not really. She felt numb again, any progress she had made crumbling beneath her feet now that the woman that had loved her like a mother was gone. As if each loss had taken a piece of her, until there was almost nothing left. First Alex, and now Caroline—the one person who had understood, who had kept her grounded when everything else had fallen apart.

The flowers in her hand trembled as she knelt down, placing them gently on the grave, and then placing the others in front of Alex’s. She wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. How do you thank someone for giving you the only semblance of a family you had left, for helping you grieve their daughter when you couldn’t even grieve for yourself?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the wind. “I should have done more. I should have—”

Her breath hitched, and she stood up quickly, wiping the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t stay any longer.

She got a small comfort in knowing that at least Caroline would be with Alex now. But of course that wasn’t true

The day Alex came back was the best and worst day of Casey’s life.

She had grieved, convinced Alex was gone forever. Months of sleepless nights, empty days, and trying to piece together a life shattered by loss with the help of Caroline. And then suddenly Alex was back, standing in the doorway, alive but looking so broken, like she had been just as lost as Casey. All the anger, confusion, and hurt hit at once. Casey didn't know if she wanted to hold her or scream at her. But the devastation in Alex's eyes, the weight she carried—it made the anger fade, at least for the moment. So she clung to her, almost tackling her in a hug that was interrupted by sobs and tears and kisses that brought back a piece of Casey that she was sure was gone forever.

Days later, they stood together at Caroline’s grave. As much as Alex wanted to go visit her mother she couldn’t bring herself to do it at first, couldn’t face the reality that her mom was gone for good and Casey understood, so she gave her time as they figured out where they stood.

The wind blew through the cemetery, cold and sharp, stinging their skin. Spring was a few weeks away so the cold air was just another reminder of how cruel time had been for both of them. How much time they had lost. Alex stood still, staring at the grave, her face tight, like she was holding herself together by a thread. Casey watched her, unsure if she should reach out or let Alex face this moment alone.

“When they told me she was gone,” Alex finally said, her voice low and rough, “I… I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I kept thinking they had to be wrong, that somehow… it wasn’t real.” She clenched the flowers so tightly, petals broke off, floating down to the dirt.

Casey didn’t say anything, watching the tension build in Alex’s face.

“I was out there in the middle of nowhere, stuck, and all I could think was… she’s gone. My mom is dead, and I wasn’t there. I couldn’t even bury her. What kind of daughter does that?” Alex’s voice broke, and she turned her head, eyes filling with tears she fought to keep in.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Casey said softly. “They didn’t give you a choice, Alex.”

“But I should’ve listened to you!” Alex’s voice cracked, finally letting out what she’d been holding in for so long. “I should’ve listened. You told me not to push it, not to—” She shook her head, words tripping over each other. “And now I’m here, and she’s not. And you—you had to deal with all of this alone because I was too fucking stubborn.”

Casey’s chest tightened, seeing Alex unravel like this. She tried to step closer, but Alex pulled away, pacing in front of the grave like she couldn’t bear to stand still.

“I left you alone. I left her alone.” Alex wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand, her breath coming quicker. “And now… she’s dead. My mom is dead.”

Casey felt her heart shatter again, hearing the raw pain in Alex’s voice, and she reached for her. “Alex—”

“She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” Alex’s knees gave out, and she crumbled before the grave, clutching the flowers she still held, her shoulders shaking with each sob. “I wasn’t here. I couldn’t even say goodbye.”

Tears streamed down Alex’s face as sob after sob tore through her, shaking her whole body. Casey dropped beside her, pulling her into her arms as Alex’s grief poured out, a flood of months of guilt, pain, and loss.

“She’s gone,” Alex gasped between sobs. “She’s gone, Casey. I’ll never get to see her again. I’ll never hear her voice, never—” She couldn’t finish. The words turned into another flood of choked sobs, her body trembling in Casey’s arms. “I want my mom” she sobbed out letting her head fall against Casey's chest.

Casey pressed her lips to the top of Alex’s head, rocking her gently. “I know. I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

For what felt like hours, Alex cried until her voice was hoarse, her tears soaking Casey’s coat. When the sobs finally slowed, Alex leaned back against Casey, utterly drained, her eyes red and swollen. She looked lost, like a little girl who had just lost her entire world.

Casey stroked her hair, whispering softly. “She wasn’t alone. She helped me, and I helped her. We got through it together.”

Alex closed her eyes, her breath still shaky. “I should’ve been the one here with her.”

Casey didn’t know what to say, because she knew no words could make Alex’s guilt go away.

Alex sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. “I don’t know how to forgive myself for not being there.”

Casey shifted so she could look into Alex’s eyes, her thumb brushing away the tears still clinging to her cheeks. “ You survived. That’s what matters. That’s what she would’ve wanted and she wouldn’t have wanted to see you drowning in guilt”

“But she’s not here,” Alex whispered, her voice so small it almost broke Casey’s heart all over again.

Casey stared into those beautiful blue eyes and brought Alex in closer as they both knelt by the grave in silence, holding each other in the quiet hurt of their grief. The flowers they’d brought lay in front of the headstone, peonies and daisies.

Alex laid her head on Casey’s shoulder. She just sat there, staring at the grave as the last of her tears dried on her cheeks. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she whispered, “Thank you. For being here. For… everything.”

Casey pressed her forehead to Alex’s. “You don’t have to thank me, Alex. I’m with you, always.”

They got up, hand in hand, there was nothing left to say, but they stood there for a moment longer, letting the quiet surround them. Trying to wake up from the nightmare that had tainted their lives.

#casey novak x alex cabot #might be one of the saddest ones I’ve written oops #law and order svu #alex cabot #casey novak #calex

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slytherinspired · 1 day

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Yet - A Remus Lupin Imagine (smut)

Following the same story and universe as Tell Me About series! Here I am... 10 years later?

Remus stood before the counter, his hands trembling with a desperation he struggled to suppress. His clothes, worn and faded, hung loosely on his frame. His voice, when it came, was loud yet strained, as if it had been dragged from a place of deep frustration. The clerk in front of him sat behind a towering mahogany desk, her fingers moving in swift, precise gestures, as though casting spells without a wand. Her face was pale and angular, softened only by the shadow of dim candlelight that flickered along the Ministry’s endless corridors. The clerk was dressed in the neat, sober attire of Ministry officials, a crisp grey uniform with silver buttons that reflected the cold, bureaucratic glow of the room. Her brown hair was pinned back tightly, not a strand out of place, except for a thin streak of white that curled at her temple.

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. The words felt twisted, as if they fought to balance on the edge between civility and rage. The witch behind the counter flinched but remained still, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. She had no more to offer him than the faint apology etched into her expression. “I need to work.”

He needed the money. That need pulsed in the room like a living thing, thickening the air between them. But all she could offer was silence, her eyes downcast, her hands empty. Papers floated softly to her from unseen corners, filing themselves with barely a flick of her wrist. Behind her desk, a charmed quill wrote furiously on a long parchment, recording the day’s tasks with an efficiency that bordered on eerie.

“Like I told you –” she said, “Mr Collins needs help with his books, but I don’t have anything else right now for you.”

Remus shook his head. “Mr Collins won’t work with me. You know it.”

There it was—unspoken but palpable. The reason why each request was met with hesitance, each job prospect slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He didn’t need to say it aloud anymore; the label had been burned into his very being. Werewolf. In the wizarding world, it was more than a condition—it was a curse. Few wanted to hire a werewolf. The fear lingered in every interaction, no matter how mundane. The Ministry had their own discreet policies on “dangerous creatures”.

“I am sorry, Mr Lupin.” Her voice was smooth and low, tinged with the practiced indifference of someone who had seen many come and go from the Ministry’s endless halls. Her brown eyes showed nothing but disinterest. “Just come back next week.”

“I’m here every week,” he sighed, “asking you for work, and each time it is the same. Why don’t you send me an owl if there’s something in the meantime? It would spare me from having to come here and bother you.”

The witch raised her eyebrows and smiled mockingly. “Oh? And to what address should I send it?”

She knew too well he didn’t have an address. He lived in his damn car – had been living in it for months now. The Ministry’s endless red tape, combined with the stigma of his condition, had shut every door before him. Each job interview, each opportunity, crumbled the moment his lycanthropy was mentioned or even hinted at. It was as if the wizarding world had no place for him outside the fringes of society.

He turned away without bothering to say goodbye. There was nothing for him there.

Finding work in the Muggle world had proven just as impossible. At first, it seemed like an escape—no one in the Muggle realm knew about werewolves, and the Ministry couldn’t interfere as easily. But even there, he couldn’t outrun his condition. Each month, as the full moon approached, he would feel the familiar dread tightening in his chest. He couldn’t just call in sick for three days without raising suspicion, and disappearing every month had quickly made him unreliable. Employers grew wary, questioning the strange absences. He had been let go from more jobs than he cared to remember, dismissed for being "untrustworthy" or "inconsistent."

Remus had been careful with the modest inheritance his parents had left him, stretching every Galleon to make it last. For a time, it allowed him to rent a small flat near Diagon Alley, a place where he could be somewhat connected to the magical world. But even that fragile stability crumbled after two years, when Mrs. Daisy, his elderly neighbour, had complained to the landlord, claiming she didn’t feel safe living next door to a werewolf. No one had said it outright, but the eviction notice came soon after.

Afterward, he managed to find a tiny studio in London, outside the magical community, but the rent required sterling pounds, not Galleons, and even without his affliction, finding work in the Muggle world have proved nearly impossible without the proper credentials. He had no Muggle schooling, no tangible proof of any experience, and no one was willing to take a risk on a man with an incomplete story. For a brief spell, he worked at a small café, washing dishes in the back, but his frequent absences around the full moon quickly made him expendable. “It’s just not working out,” his manager had said, barely meeting his eyes as he handed over the final pay check.

After that, it had been a string of odd jobs—cleaning homes, scrubbing cars, whatever he could find that didn’t require questions or paperwork. But even those jobs dried up after a few months, the repeated absences stacking up like a curse he couldn’t escape. It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how much he tried to hide his condition; sooner or later, the same pattern emerged. He’d disappear for a few days, recover in secret, and by the time he returned, the whispers had already started. They always ended the same way: with him packing his few belongings and moving on to the next temporary refuge, the shadows of his secret following him wherever he went.

But then, happier days came. And he embraced them as much as he could.

Mr. Collins had been one of the rare few to take a chance on Remus, inviting him into his home with little fuss or prying questions. The old wizard had an impressive collection of books and papers in desperate need of organization, and Remus had relished the work. The house itself felt like a sanctuary—a sprawling estate tucked away from the bustling wizarding world, with its heart being the grand library that stretched wall to wall with ancient tomes and fragile manuscripts. For six peaceful months, Remus had lived there, surrounded by books, his evenings filled with the quiet companionship of Mr. Collins. They would often sit by the fire, sipping tea or scotch depending on the mood, talking about the wizard’s past adventures and far-flung travels. Remus had almost allowed himself to believe that he had found a place where his affliction didn’t matter.

Everything changed overnight.

The trouble had started with a routine trip to the Ministry to pick up his Wolfsbane Potion. With the full moon only days away, Remus needed it to maintain control during his transformation. But that day, there had been none. The Ministry’s supplies had run dry, and in a rising panic, Remus went to every apothecary in Diagon Alley, pleading for them to brew it for him. The answer was always the same—there was no Wolfsbane to be had, not until a delayed shipment of rare herbs arrived. Desperation clawed at him as the full moon loomed closer.

When the night finally came, Remus did the only thing he could—he locked himself in the cellar beneath the guest house on Mr. Collins’ estate, far away from the main house and anyone who could be harmed. He chained himself tightly, trying to prepare for the agonizing transformation. But without the Wolfsbane, Remus knew that the wolf was savage, uncontrollable. As the change tore through his body, so too did the creature’s instincts, stronger than any chain he had prepared. The bonds snapped, and the beast roamed the grounds, its hunger and rage unleashed. The wolf howled to the moon, its cries cutting through the still night air as it hunted the estate, searching for prey.

Mr. Collins’ housekeeper had been outside that night, restless and unable to sleep. She had been wandering through the gardens when the wolf appeared, a massive shadow with glowing eyes. In a split second, it lunged. Only the quick intervention of Mr. Collins, who had been awakened by the howling, had saved her. He subdued the wolf before it could do any real damage, but the incident left its mark.

The next morning, Remus awoke in human form, bruised, aching, and filled with dread. He didn’t need to hear Mr. Collins' words to know what was coming. When he entered the kitchen, his pay was already waiting for him on the counter, along with a leather trunk packed with his few belongings. On top of the trunk rested a book from Mr. Collins' private collection—Remus's favourite, one he had admired during his long nights in the library. The wizard had even engraved the trunk with Remus’s initials, a final gesture of parting kindness.

Beside it, a note in Mr. Collins’ elegant script read simply: Thank you for your service.

It was over. Whatever peace he had found there was gone, lost in a single night.

When Remus came back to London, the weight of his situation bore down on him like a suffocating fog. He needed a place to live, but the few Galleons he had saved were barely enough to cover the cost of a small studio, let alone food and the Wolfsbane Potion that he relied on every month. He ran the calculations over and over in his head—if he paid for rent, he’d only have enough to survive for a couple of months before everything dried up.

That was when he met a young wizard at the Leaky Cauldron, selling an old, battered car for next to nothing. The decision had been easy. The car was cheaper than rent, and living in it meant he could stretch his money long enough to eat and scrape by while searching for work. So, Remus took it, and for two months now, the car had become his home—an old, rusting shelter parked in the backstreets of Muggle London. But work never came. Not for someone like him.

Each Friday became a routine of survival. Remus would head to the Leaky Cauldron, where the kindly innkeeper allowed him to sit down with a free bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Sometimes, if the inn wasn’t fully booked, he was even allowed to use one of the rooms to take a hot shower, a luxury he was rarely afforded. Those brief moments of warmth and comfort were fleeting, but he clung to them like a lifeline.

After his shower, he’d walk back to the Ministry, heading straight to the Wizarding Work Bureau, where hope flickered and died week after week. Every Friday, he found himself standing before the same brown-haired clerk. And every Friday, her reply was the same: nothing new, no work available. The expression on her face was always tired, indifferent. Remus couldn’t blame her—his situation was just another file in a growing stack. Another life falling through the cracks.

He’d leave the bureau and step into the great hall of the Ministry, watching witches and wizards bustling about their business, oblivious to the fact that his world was crumbling. He wondered sometimes if he could even blame them. After all, his affliction was real, dangerous, and he understood their fear. But understanding didn’t make it easier to live with. He had grown thinner, his clothes hung loosely on his frame, and his face had become gaunt, his eyes shadowed by dark circles that deepened with each restless night spent in the backseat of his car. At just 28, streaks of grey had already woven through his hair, and he looked older than his years—like the ghost of the man he had once been.

He was about to leave the Ministry, ready to disappear into the crowded streets once more, when something stopped him. A glimpse of black hair. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it—his tired mind playing tricks on him—but then he saw her again.

Eliana.

It all came rushing back to him in an instant, as if the past had never let him go. Eliana had arrived at Hogwarts during their sixth year, transferring from an old, distinguished town in Italy. Her beauty had been striking—impossible to ignore—and it wasn’t long before she caught the attention of everyone. Sirius, however, had despised her from the moment he noticed the colour of her tie. Ellie and her younger sister had been sorted into Slytherin. But Remus had seen the look in his friend's eyes, the disdain that masked something deeper.

It wasn’t just the house she’d been placed in; it was the undeniable pull she had over him. She was one of the most captivating girls Remus had ever laid eyes on, and though Sirius never admitted it, Remus knew he felt the same. They had fought constantly—Sirius and Eliana—bickering in the halls, trading insults in class, to the point where even the professors made a point of keeping them apart.

But everything shifted that summer. Sirius had run away from his family, severing ties with the House of Black once and for all. When they returned to Hogwarts for their final year, something about him had changed. Remus noticed how Sirius’s silver eyes lingered on Ellie now, no longer filled with resentment, but something softer. By Christmas, they were holding hands, sitting together at meals, whispering in quiet corners. They were inseparable, and it wasn’t long before everyone was talking about how perfect they were for each other—two rebels who had found solace in each other’s arms.

Everyone agreed they were made for each other—everyone except Eliana’s family. Her parents couldn’t accept that their eldest daughter, heir to an old and revered lineage, was in love with the disowned son of one of the most infamous wizarding families. The Blacks may have been prestigious, but Sirius’s rebellion had tarnished their name in the eyes of the pure-blood elite. Yet, despite the tension, Eliana stood by him. She had promised that one day, she would confront her family, make them understand. But that day never came.

Everything fell apart. Darkness had crept into Sirius’s world, and when Remus told Eliana what he had done, to Peter and James – and Lily, the crimes he’d committed, she refused to believe it. She couldn’t. They fought—terribly, violently—words flung at each other like curses. A month later, she disappeared. Without a word, she left, and no one knew where she had gone. Remus had tried to reach her, sending letters to her parents, even tracking down her younger sister, begging for answers. But there had been no replies, just silence. A year later, he found out her family had sold their house in London. Ellie had vanished from his life, as though she had never existed at all.

She left the Ministry, and Remus followed, keeping his distance, too afraid to call out, too afraid to shatter the fragile image of her that had lingered in his mind for years. What if she wasn’t the same? What if the Eliana he remembered—the one who had disappeared so suddenly—was gone, replaced by someone colder, more distant? Her hurried steps echoed in the quiet streets until she reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Remus watched from the shadows as she slipped inside. He hesitated for a moment, then followed.

She made her way to the bar, her movements quick and deliberate. He stayed back, watching, listening, his heart hammering in his chest. He heard her voice, unmistakable even after all these years.

“Fire whiskey, please.”

That voice—it sent a shiver through him. It was hers, no doubt about it. He could have recognized it anywhere.

He stood at a distance, watching as she downed the glass in one swift gulp, her fingers gripping the empty glass as if trying to hold on to something far more elusive.

“One more,” she said, her voice steady, but there was an edge to it—something raw and unguarded.

The bartender frowned but obliged, pouring another glass. She tossed it back just as quickly.

“In fact,” Eliana said, placing a piece of gold on the counter, “just give me the whole bottle.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Careful with that,” he warned. “It’s strong.”

She scoffed. “Strong is exactly what I need right now.”

She grabbed the bottle and turned—only to find herself face-to-face with Remus. Their eyes locked. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, suspended in the charged space between them. The bottle slipped from her grasp, but before it could hit the floor, Remus caught it with a quick flick of his hand.

“Careful with that,” he echoed the bartender's words, offering her a small, shy smile as he handed the bottle back to her.

Eliana stood there, stunned, her expression unreadable. She blinked, seemingly unsure of what to say, then turned back to the bar, grabbing an empty glass. After a long pause, she took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“Shall we... sit?” she asked quietly.

Remus frowned, feeling a twinge of disappointment. He hadn’t expected her to rush into his arms, not after everything, but he hadn’t expected her to be so... indifferent. They found a quiet, dimly lit corner, away from the crowd, and sat down. The air between them felt thick, like an unspoken question hanging there, unanswered.

“I didn’t know you were in London,” Remus said, breaking the silence. His voice was softer than he intended, as if he feared that if he didn’t speak, she might vanish again.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” she replied, pouring the fire whiskey into two glasses and sliding one toward him.

He took it, feeling the warmth of the liquid as he sipped, the heat spreading through his chest. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I arrived yesterday,” she said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Remus frowned. “Do you come to London often?”

Her eyes stayed fixed on her drink. “First time in five years,” she muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to ever come back.”

That, he had guessed.

“So, why are you here?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years between them.

She took another sip, her gaze distant. “It’s Clara’s birthday. I came to visit her.”

“Clara’s in London?” Remus was genuinely surprised. Eliana’s younger sister had left the city around the same time she did.

“She’s been here for two years now,” Eliana replied, finally looking up at him. “She studied healing in America, but she got an opportunity to be a resident at St. Mungo’s.”

Remus felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t known. He’d never seen Clara in all this time, never even heard whispers of her name.

“Usually, she comes back to Italy for her birthday, but this year she’s on call, so I thought I’d surprise her,” Eliana continued, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on her.

“And you?” Remus asked, his voice low. “You’re in Italy now?”

She nodded, but there was no warmth in the gesture. He had thought she had returned to her family after leaving London, but he didn’t know where nor did he have the means to search for her. Over time, he had accepted that she was gone, that she didn’t want to be found.

“I looked for you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The first year. I wrote to your parents. They sold the house, and I couldn’t find where you had gone. I wanted to write, but—”

Eliana reached out, her hand resting on his. The touch was sudden, unexpected, and he nearly flinched from the warmth of it. He hadn’t felt her touch in years.

She used to be so kind to him. They’d study together when Sirius was too tired to care. They’d spend whole nights in the library, preparing for the next test. Often, they’d compare their answers and have burst of laughs. And when she had guessed his condition, she never pulled back, on the contrary, she used to help him and the boys prepare for the full moon. She took care of him after, bringing him hot chocolate the following mornings after a transformation.

“I left for a reason, Remus,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of something final, something unspoken. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

She looked away, her fingers slipping from his hand as quickly as they had touched it. Remus could see the hurt in her eyes, the grief she had carried for so long. She had been mourning—Sirius, their future, everything she had lost—but was it enough to leave without a word? Was the pain of losing Sirius worth abandoning everything else?

She didn’t answer the question burning on his lips, but she took his hand, her touch soft, hesitant. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered.

He knew she had been angry—angry with him for not believing in Sirius’s innocence, for standing against her when she had tried so hard to defend the man she loved. Their last conversation had been bitter, sharp words exchanged like hexes. She had called him a horrible friend, accused him of betraying Sirius’s memory, of believing that his best friend could be capable of murder and treachery. And he, in his grief, had thrown her words back at her, refusing to believe that she could still defend the man who had killed Peter, who had betrayed James and Lily’s trust. Who had made his own godson an orphan.

Remus shook his head, squeezing her hand gently. “I didn’t mean to either.”

She laughed softly, but it was a sad, hollow sound. She pulled her hand away, running her fingers nervously through her dark hair. “I didn’t plan on seeing you again,” she admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“You must have known I wasn’t far...” he replied quietly, studying her face, trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

She shrugged, her lips curving into a faint, almost wistful smile. “To be honest, Remus, I thought you’d have left London by now. You never liked it here.”

She was right, of course. He had always craved the quiet solitude of the countryside, the peace it offered compared to the chaos of city life. But circumstances had tied him to this place. “I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Eliana’s gaze flickered with curiosity, but she didn’t push. She could see the weariness in his face, the gauntness in his frame, and he didn’t want to burden her with the details of his life. Not after all this time.

“So,” he said, changing the subject as he poured them another round of fire whiskey, “what are you doing now, back home?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. “I’m a barrister,” she said finally, her voice soft but steady.

Of course she was, Remus thought. She had always had a fierce sense of justice, always fighting for the underdog. It seemed fitting. She studied him with a small, knowing smile. “It suits me, don’t you think?”

She had not been able to fight for Sirius.

Remus smiled back, but there was something faint about it, as if he couldn’t quite summon the warmth he used to feel. “And are you happy?” he asked, his eyes falling to her left hand, where he had noticed the glint of a ring earlier.

Eliana glanced down at the ring, as if surprised to see it there herself. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I am.”

“He’s a lucky man,” Remus said, his tone genuine, though there was a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

Her expression faltered for just a moment, her gaze clouding over with something unreadable.

They talked for what felt like hours, dancing around the past, avoiding the name that hung between them like a shadow. They didn’t dare speak of Sirius, both too afraid that the mention of him would reignite the pain and bitterness that had driven them apart all those years ago. Eliana tried, more than once, to ask about Remus—how he was really doing—but it was clear she already knew. She could see the struggle etched into his skin.

At one point, she offered to order dinner, but Remus refused, his pride too strong to accept her charity, especially from her. He could feel her pity, and he hated it. The night wore on, and eventually, Ellie glanced out the window, watching as the sky darkened and snow began to fall, dusting the streets in a soft, silent white.

“I should go,” she said, standing up reluctantly.

Remus rose with her. “Let me walk you outside,” he offered.

She shook her head. “There’s no need.”

But Remus reached for her hand, and she let him take it. His eyes locked onto hers, his voice low and serious. “If this is the last time I see you, Ellie, at least let me walk with you. I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye last time.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

Outside, the air was crisp, the snowflakes catching the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the street. The festive scene felt oddly out of place, the cheerful lights at odds with the heaviness between them. Eliana walked beside him in silence for a while, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Are you living far from here?” she asked, glancing sideways at him. “I’m just around the corner. Maybe we could walk together?”

“I’m fine,” Remus said, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She stopped, then, looking up at him with concern. Before he could protest, she stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, a familiar comfort from a time long past.

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her green eyes shimmered with tears, and for a moment, Remus felt something in him break.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said lightly, scoffing to cover the ache in his chest. He pointed to the old red car parked just a few feet away. “I’ve got all I need.”

Eliana pulled away from him, frowning as she walked up to the car, her brow furrowed. “Is this... yours?”

“Not bad, eh?” Remus said with a laugh, trying to brush it off.

But it was absurd. She came from a world of wealth and privilege, and here he was, trying to play off the fact that he was living out of a beat-up car.

“Well, it’s got style, I’ll give you that,” she said with a soft smile, but then her expression shifted. She peered through the windows of the car, her face growing serious.

“Remus,” she asked, her voice quiet, “are you... living in your car?”

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “It’s just temporary,” he said, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them.

Eliana stepped closer, her hand finding his once again. Her face was filled with concern, the same look she used to give him at Hogwarts, whenever she worried for his well-being.

All those years, always worrying about him.

And here she was, still doing it.

She wore the same worried look when Sirius would show too much affection towards her in front of him. She always glanced at Remus, a quick look to make sure he was alright. And every time, he ignored it—ignored that pitiful gaze he despised so much.

“Let me show you something,” she said, her voice soft but firm.

She took his hand, and together they walked through the blurry, illuminated streets. The night felt strange, the lights of the city glowing brighter than usual, casting everything in an almost dreamlike haze. They stopped in front of an old Victorian building, its weathered brickwork speaking of better days. Without a word, Eliana opened the front door, and Remus stepped in, his heart heavy but his feet following her without hesitation.

The entrance led through a narrow, dimly lit hallway with a winding staircase, where the sounds of distant conversations echoed faintly from above. Inside, the flat was modest but charming. Tall sash windows framed the streets below, and the living room, with its classic crown mouldings, felt warm despite the unused fireplace. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet.

“Clara’s rented this place when she came back to London,” Eliana said as she flicked on the lights with a casual wave of her hand. “But she moved in with her partner six months ago, so now she just uses it as storage. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable.”

“It’s nice,” Remus murmured, still standing in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Ellie frowned and gestured for him to come in properly. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Remus cleared his throat and stepped further inside, still cautious, as if he were afraid he might knock something over or leave a mark where he didn’t belong. Eliana removed her black cloak, revealing an all-black outfit underneath. The simplicity made her seem almost otherworldly in the soft light.

“There’s a small living room here, the kitchen’s just over there,” she said, pointing to a tiny space to her right. “An office through that door, and a decent-sized bedroom next to it. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”

As she spoke, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why she was describing all this to him. This was the kind of flat he couldn’t even dream of renting. He wasn’t sure why she had brought him here—until he felt something cold press into his hand. Looking down, he saw a key.

“What—”

“Clara’s moving to France in a couple of months,” Eliana explained, cutting him off before he could protest. “There’s still two years left on the lease, and it’s a nightmare finding someone reliable to sublet. The owner’s a witch who only rents to people like us. It would be a waste to leave it empty when I know you could use it.”

Remus shook his head, immediately trying to hand the key back to her. “I can’t accept this. It’s a kind offer, but—”

“But what?” she interrupted; her tone sharp but not unkind. “It’s almost winter, Remus. You can’t live in your car. I won’t allow it.”

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. “You haven’t cared where I’ve lived for the last five years. Why now?”

The words sounded harsher than he had intended, but he couldn’t take them back.

Eliana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even seem angry, just... resigned. “I understand why you’d feel that way,” she said softly. “I know I’ve hurt you, but believe me, Remus, I didn’t want to leave you behind like that. It wasn’t just my choice.”

“Then why did you?” His voice was low, but the question cut through the space between them like a knife.

She sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “I was angry. Angry that you could believe such awful things about him.” She didn’t dare speak his name. “I needed you to fight with me, to at least give him a chance, to hear his side of the story. And when you didn’t... I felt like I was losing everything. You didn’t just turn your back on him—you left me alone too.”

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stave off the familiar sting of guilt. It was the same argument they’d had all those years ago, and yet here it was again, haunting them both.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the friend you needed. I’m sorry I abandoned you.” He held out the key again, offering it back. “But I can’t accept this, Ellie. I don’t need your pity.”

She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Pity?” she echoed. “Is that really what you think this is?”

What else could it be?

“You’ve always tried to protect me,” Remus said quietly, his voice strained. “Even back at Hogwarts. I know you knew... how I felt.”

He hesitated, but there was no need to finish. She knew. She had always known how he felt—how much he wished she didn’t love Sirius the way she did. And how much he wished Sirius didn’t love her back just as fiercely. They were soulmates, and it had always crushed him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“This isn’t pity, Remus,” she said, sitting down on the couch, her fingers pressing into her temples as though she could push away the weight of the conversation. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “It’s care. It’s love. I can’t stand the idea of you being homeless, living in your car. I had no idea things were this bad.”

Remus sighed, his exhaustion overwhelming him. He sat down too, sinking into the cushions beside her, his body heavy with the burden of everything left unsaid.

“Has it been this way since I left?” she asked, her gaze fixed on him.

He shook his head, not wanting her to carry the full weight of his struggles. But he didn’t have the strength to lie, either. The truth was somewhere in between, and as they sat in the quiet flat, the years of pain and silence between them felt heavier than ever.

“It was fine for a while,” he began, hesitating. “But being what I am… you know. People fear me. They’re right to.”

Eliana edged closer, her expression softening as she reached for his hand. “No one should fear you.”

Remus gave a hollow laugh. “I’m a monster, Ellie. Quite literally.”

Her hand moved to his chin, gently turning his face toward hers. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “You are not a monster. You’re the kindest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known.”

“Kindness doesn’t matter much when I turn into a wild animal every full moon,” he muttered, eyes drifting to the window. “Even with wolfsbane, I’m just a shadow of myself, too drained to do anything but exist.”

His gaze traced the night sky, as if searching for answers in the stars. “It’s coming again… two days from now. I’m already worn out. Everything hurts.”

Eliana’s voice broke as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“It is what it is,” Remus replied, standing slowly and moving toward the door.

“Stay,” she called after him, her voice trembling.

He paused, eyes closing against the weight of her plea.

“Please, Remus,” she said again, stepping closer. “Let this be your home, just for a while. Let me give you a chance to rest, to not worry about where you’ll sleep tomorrow.”

His heart clenched painfully. He turned to her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “There’s only one thing I want, Ellie,” he whispered. “Don’t leave. I can’t be alone anymore. I need a friend.”

He broke down, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. Eliana was at his side in an instant, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I can’t stay, Remus,” she said softly.

He looked down, his heart sinking further. He knew she had a life elsewhere, with someone waiting for her. Someone she loved.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice hollow.

Ellie gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t want to see you again,” she admitted, her gaze locking with his. “I was terrified of this moment…”

“Am I that frightening?” he tried to joke, though his heart wasn’t in it.

She traced the scar on his face with a gentle touch. “Not at all,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re everything but.”

Her hand lingered on his skin, their faces now inches apart. Remus felt the pull, the uncontrollable urge rising within him, the wildness that came with the moon. But he fought it, grounding himself in the moment.

When she kissed his other cheek, the rawness of it nearly undid him. Her breath warmed his neck, and before he could stop himself, he leaned into her, eyes closed against the flood of desire.

“Ellie…” he murmured, his control slipping.

“This is the last time we’ll see each other,” she whispered against his skin. “Don’t ruin it.”

Her hands found his bare skin, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt, moving lower. His mind spun. He felt as though he were betraying the memory of his lost brother, but the weight of her closeness, the tenderness he had craved for so long, was too much to resist. If pity was all she had to offer, then maybe… maybe it was enough.

The memory of one past night haunted him—one of those memories that never faded, no matter how much time passed. It was their last year at Hogwarts. The entire school had descended on Hogsmeade for one last wild celebration, all the houses mingling, no divisions, no rivalries—just freedom and exhilaration. Remus had felt it too, for a while, but exhaustion caught up with him before the night was over. He decided to return to the dorms early, slipping away unnoticed, or so he thought.

He hadn’t realized that Sirius and Ellie weren’t with the rest of the group when he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He had planned to take a long bath and go to bed, hoping to escape the noise and chaos that usually drained him.

But when he opened the dormitory door, something stopped him cold.

There, pinned against the wall, was Eliana. Sirius was with her, moving against her, his breath heavy. Her hands had been tangled in his hair, her back arching into him as if seeking more. Remus had frozen. Sirius’s trousers were bunched around his ankles, his shirt barely covering his body, and Ellie—her clothes had been dishevelled, exposing enough for Remus to know what was happening.

He had been wanting to turn around, to give them their privacy, but something held him in place. Ellie’s eyes met his. For a heartbeat, he was sure she saw him. Her lips parted, and for that brief moment, he swore there was something more than surprise in her gaze. Was it… desire? For him?

No, he had imagined it.

Shaken, he had flown back to the common room, trying to focus on a book, anything to erase the scene from his mind. Half an hour later, Sirius and Ellie had reappeared, laughing as though nothing had happened. Sirius joked about Remus turning in early, while Ellie said nothing, avoiding his gaze completely. He had never brought it up. He convinced himself it was a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination. Surely, she hadn’t seen him at all.

And now, with a broken heart and trembling hands, he gave in.

She was kissing him, and as he pressed his body against hers, he couldn’t help but recall that night—couldn’t help but recreate the image of her against the wall, except this time, it was him pinning her there. His breath came ragged in her ear, and he fought to keep control. He had imagined this for so long—what she might taste like, how her body would feel wrapped around him.

Ellie unbuckled his belt, her hands steady, as his trousers fell to the floor. When she pulled off her shirt, revealing herself to him, he couldn’t breathe. She was perfect. More perfect than he had ever dared to imagine.

For so long, he had envied Sirius, envied him for knowing her in ways Remus never would. But now, with her in front of him, he felt a shame deeper than anything he had known.

But the desire, the wildness in him, wouldn’t be silenced. He bent to kiss her skin—her lips, her neck, her collarbone—his breath hot and uncontrolled. He wasn’t a man anymore. He was something primal, something desperate. Ellie tilted her head back, and he slid his mouth lower, removing the last barrier of clothing between them.

When his lips found the warmth between her legs, her quiet moan broke the silence, sending a shiver down his spine. She grabbed his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue moved between her folds, tasting her. She moaned again, her fingers gripping him tighter, and for a moment, he forgot everything. Forgot who he was, forgot who she was. All that mattered was the taste of her, the feel of her skin under his tongue.

He could stay like this forever, he thought. But the ache between his own legs, the pressure building inside him, refused to be ignored. He stood, lifting her in his arms, carrying her to the couch. Ellie’s legs parted without hesitation, inviting him in. He saw that same look in her eyes—the one he had seen all those years ago. Perhaps, he hadn’t been imagining it after all.

His breath hitched as he nudged at her entrance, and when he pushed into her, they both let out a gasp—surprise and pleasure all at once. He moved slowly at first, trying to remind himself to be gentle, to be soft. But he couldn’t hold back. Not with her. He wanted to feel her completely, to lose himself in her warmth.

Her moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, the sound of his body moving against hers driving him to the edge. She arched beneath him, her breasts rising and falling with each thrust, and he was lost—growling low in his throat, forgetting everything but this moment, this need.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her, harder now, his humanity slipping away. And then, he felt her tighten around him, her body trembling with the release he had been chasing.

With her eyes closed, he wondered for a moment if she was thinking of somebody else, of him or the man that awaited her back home.

But Ellie whispered his name in a breathless gasp, and it was all he needed. He followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a moan, his body shaking from the force of it.

For a moment, the world stood still.

As the last waves of pleasure faded, Remus pulled away, his mind reeling. What had he done? His heart pounded in his chest, guilt flooding him as he ran a trembling hand over his face. He wasn’t meant for this—not with her. Not with Ellie. Not with the woman who had once belonged with his best friend.

Eliana leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her voice soft and broken. “I would have loved you so much, Remus… if I hadn’t loved him.”

“I know,” he whispered, his chest tight.

Her words hit him harder than he expected, words he had longed to hear but never allowed himself to hope for. He had known, from the moment they met, that she would always belong to Sirius and Sirius to her. But to hear her say it—it tore him apart.

“In another life, maybe,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He let out a bitter chuckle. “Maybe.”

“I wanted this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hope you did too.”

He looked at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She was beautiful, even in her sadness. But it wasn’t him she loved. It never would be.

“I wish it had been you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“But it’s him,” he replied.

“It’s always going to be him,” she whispered with a trembling voice.

He nodded, understanding in the pit of his stomach. “I get it.”

Ellie touched his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You deserve to be loved, Remus, if only you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Remus closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. It was selfish to want more from her, to ask her to stay. He knew that now. He’d never have her fully, but this—this was something. Wasn’t it better than nothing?

“One day, you’ll meet someone,” she said softly. “Someone who will love you completely, without fear or hesitation. Please, don’t push them away when you do.”

He let out a hollow laugh, the same words James had told him countless times. It had never felt true, and it didn’t now. No one would accept him, not as he was. But he nodded, if only to make her stop crying.

Ellie kissed him once more, her lips lingering for a moment longer than before. “I don’t think our paths will cross again,” she whispered, tears spilling down her face. “It’s better this way.”

Remus shook his head, his heart aching. His eyes pleaded with her. “This is goodbye, then,” he said, his voice breaking.

She nodded. “This is goodbye.”

Defeated, Remus rested his head against the cushion, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a thick blanket. He felt her arms around him, warm and familiar, offering a fleeting comfort. Ellie’s embrace tightened gently, and she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet, and he let himself sink into that small, stolen tenderness—something he knew would soon slip away.

“I’m sorry you lost the love of your life,” he said, the words catching in his throat.

Remus quietly surrendered to the sleep that had been tugging at him for too long, its embrace pulling him deeper into a long-overdue rest. As the weight of consciousness slipped away, he felt himself sinking, drifting into the quiet abyss where exhaustion finally gave way to peace.

When Remus woke the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting a golden glow across the room. The duvet from the bedroom had been gently draped over him, a small gesture of care left in the silence. The apartment was still, empty.

Ellie was gone.

Rising slowly, he walked to the kitchen, where a folded note lay beside an envelope. His chest tightened as he opened it, reading the words in her familiar handwriting:

“You’re sorry I’ve lost the love of my life, Remus. But I’m sorry you haven’t met yours.”

He hesitated before opening the envelope. Inside, the key to the flat rested, cold and waiting. Etched into its surface was a single word: "Yet."

#harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #slytherin pride #marauders #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus smut #young remus smut #young remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x original character #sirius black #sirius #young sirius #sirius black fanfic #professor lupin

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survivalove · 6 months

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one example of atla fans’ media illiteracy is that they don’t understand the past avatars’ advice was written in a way that’s so vague that aang literally does everything they told him to do.

i see so many takes being like aang just ignored his past lives or even yangchen would’ve blah blah and i’m like. how did you miss the point that badly???

so i’m gonna point out all the ways the writers wrote around what the previous avatars said so that aang actually does what they all advised:

starting with the most obvious point: none of them actually tell him to end ozai.

kyoshi: “only justice will bring peace.”

aang? takes away ozai’s bending so the fool rots in a prison cell for the rest of his life.

the world? at peace.

kuruk: “aang, you must actively shape your own destiny and the destiny of the world.”

aang? makes his own choice against what everyone tells him to do and literally ends a war that was going on for centuries.

the world? destiny changed!

yangchen (because for some reason you all don’t get this one and it’s just never been clearer to me lmao): “selfless duty calls you to sacrifice your own spiritual needs, and do whatever it takes to protect the world.”

so let’s point out some key words:

selfless duty calls you to sacrifice your own spiritual needs, and do whatever it takes to protect the world.

and let’s go back to aang taking ozai’s bending away, but before that, when he says this right before even meeting the lion turtle.

aang: “I guess I don't have a choice, Momo. I have to kill the Fire Lord.” - Selfless duty

see even just like you guys, aang didn’t catch the signs, but that’s okay! cuz shortly after this the lion turtle starts to move and makes itself known to aang, and reward him for sticking to his faith.

now, let’s look at what the lion turtle was actually saying and how this aligns with yangchen’s advice:

lion turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable or you will be corrupted and destroyed.” - is the willingness to Sacrifice his literal Spirit sinking in yet??

if not, here’s what was actually happening while he said that:

[As he speaks, Ozai's energy begins to make its way to Aang's body, consuming the blue and replacing it with red energy. Cut to a view above Aang looking down at his face as the energy reaches his face and continues to cover the beams shining out his mouth and eyes. Cut to a side-view as the red light begins to take control and the blue light diminishes. Cut to close-up of Aang as the red energy has taken over almost completely with just one eye left...]

WHATEVER IT TAKES?? literally? like hello

i feel like because this is a kid’s show and that it was obviously gonna have a happy ending, that people take for granted what aang did and what he was willing to do.

he put his literal spirit on the line to end the war, and this was after he was running trying to spare ozai for an hour.

and then you say you wanted him to end him. and sure yeah, let’s pretend that doesn’t go against the whole show and would’ve ruined his entire arc for a seeeecond, how exactly is that supposed to be more satisfying or end any differently to what we got? aang would’ve still been hit with the rock ex machina. ozai would be dead sure but the climax would be a lot less visually appealing, and everyone in the world would STILL be at peace except for…. oh right. AANG.

#atla #aang #sozin’s comet #yangchen #like please stop using yangchen for your stupid arguments #when you didn’t even bother to understand what she said #or what literally everyone else said??#including the damn lion turtle #longer than i expected #my bad #anti atla fandom

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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year

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Me realising I forgot my best friend’s birthday and don’t have a gift for her

Me remembering that she never remembers my birthday OR her own OR her daughter’s so it’s literally fine

#sometimes i don’t understand how this woman gets through life. like i legitimately do not get it #she’s late everywhere. she was the last person to get to her own graduation. we ran full pelt through the doors to the arena #i was holding a bag shaped like a chicken #and she just doesn’t remember dates #tell me why she called me yesterday afternoon and asked how class went and then said ‘oh wait no you have class on wednesday mornings right?#it’s not wednesday’ i was like ‘……it is wednesday. and i never have class in the morning. ever #the class i take is an evening class and it clashes with the evening class i take with you which is why i never make it to that class #because i know i don’t have to be physically there and can always recap it. you KNOW this’#it wouldn’t bother me that she’s late and forgets dates but she always ALWAYS expects me to be waiting around for her and just be ready #to go whenever she is. and it’s like. i have a life #i remember this one time she called me asking if i wanted to go for a walk and i was like ‘sure’ and then she said ‘oh but i have to feed #the baby first’ and i was like ‘okay sure. well just call me when you’re ready’#why did she call me THREE HOURS later and why was she BAMBOOZLED when i told her i was working on my dissertation #and that i had been for two hours because i’d assumed she didn’t want to go out anymore because who takes three hours #to feed a bottle-fed 1 year old #she did eventually apologise for that but at the time she was SOOOO pissed off because idk…. i didn’t sit and wait for her for 3 hours??#and instead got on with something i desperately needed to do??????#i feel sorry for her kid sometimes. like how do you birth someone and not remember what day that happened #it’s just so…… i feel bad that i didn’t get her a gift but she literally has nothing planned because she doesn’t know what date it is either #how am i supposed to remember someone’s birthday when they don’t #personal #rant

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sunrizef1 · 5 months

Text

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x reader

5K notes · View notes

thelostconsultant · 25 days

Text

Puppy love

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: During his karting days, you were one of his opponents, but outside the track he was just a stupid boy who fell in love with a pretty girl. Now, after all those years, you meet again in the paddock, and he doesn't want you to leave.

note: Yes, Jos is an asshole in this (too).

“Have you seen who jumped in to do the interviews?” Charles asked with a wicked smile when he stopped next to his rival after the race. Max hadn’t really paid attention to these details until now, but now that he was informed there was something he should probably know, he looked around to see where the reporter was. “I haven’t talked to her since your dad ruined her career. But she seems truly happy now.”

That’s when his eyes fell on you, the girl who had been haunting him in his dreams for long years, the one who was glowing while talking to the cameraman. He wanted to object, he wanted to say “my dad didn��t ruin her career, she just decided to quit,” but the way you had left certainly hinted at a possible connection between the two events. Because his father’s outburst took place a week before he found out you weren’t coming back to race, and you didn’t even try to contact him ever again.

What made it real hard was the fact he knew you were left heartbroken, and it wasn’t racing that you missed. His mother called your parents to ask them about you, and they said you had been crying in your room for days, but when the option for a call from Max came up, they were quick to shut it down. They said it would be easier for you to move on if he didn’t show up in your life again, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for everything that happened.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with you, if he hadn’t met you on a vacation, if his father hadn’t found out he loved someone, maybe you would still be racing. He remembered your bright smile that was present even after a tough race, and your good mood that was often highly contagious. The boys you raced against loved you dearly, mostly because you brought a different energy into their little boys’ club.

“Max, you’re next,” he was told all of a sudden.

He wasn't ready to face you, but there was no escape. What he had to do now was force a smile on his face and act like he was talking to someone else, someone whose presence didn't affect him half as much as yours did. But the moment he stopped in front of you and noticed a strange glint in your eyes, he had to focus on breathing in and out while you asked your first question.

After the camera was turned off, he cautiously watched you to see if you were planning to approach him, or if you seemed open to the possibility of him doing that. When you looked at him with a smile and said goodbye to the cameraman, he walked over to you with his hand folded behind his back.

“It's nice to see you here,” he said with a small, cautious smile. You nodded, but Max could see behind the cheerful look on your face, he could tell you were tense. “If I'm bothering you, just say it.”

You took a deep breath, and soon your smile changed, and it was now showing a lot more sadness. “It's been a while, that's all. Talking to you in person brings back different memories,” you admitted.

“Good or bad ones?”

Following a shrug, you folded your arms over your chest and looked down at your shoes. “Compared to the ones that come back when I see you or Charles on TV? Bad,” you finally replied.

Max gulped upon hearing this, feeling guilty despite knowing he had done nothing wrong, that whatever happened back in the day was the result of a series of decisions made by your parents. If it was up to him, he would have kept in touch with you, doing his best to see where this puppy love would lead the two of you. Maybe you would have broken up after he got into F1, maybe you would be married by now. It was a question he had no answer to.

The best he could do now was trying to make you understand this, making you see that he wanted to fix things now, even if you would be nothing more than friends. Sure, he had no idea how much you had changed over the years, but he knew there was only one way to find out. “I know it means very little after all these years, but I’m sorry,” he said to break the deafening silence.

You nodded, then to his surprise, took a step closer to him. “I know it wasn’t your fault. My parents told me what happened exactly eventually.”

He watched you closely, trying to figure out if you were interested in a proper conversation, maybe later in private. But before he could speak up, Charles walked over to the two of you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder with a big smile on his face. “It’s been so long,” he said happily, earning a shy smile and a barely visible shake of your head from you.

Max bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed by the sudden appearance of the Ferrari driver, but the main problem was a vivid memory from his childhood. While him and Charles had gone for blood on the track and didn’t have the best relationship off it either, you and the Monegasque were on very good terms, with you even visiting him and his family in his home. It didn’t bother him until his brain finally caught up with his feelings and he realized he had a crush on you, because then he felt intense jealousy every time his rival laid a finger on you, even if it was nothing more than a friendly pat on the shoulder.

You then suddenly moved to give him a hug, and seeing the way Charles wrapped his arms around you made his blood boil, even if he knew deep down that he had no right to be jealous. But it was painfully obvious that the two of you were talking to each other, keeping your voices down as much as you could in the noise around you, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about.

Then he finally let go of you and said goodbye, although the two of you agreed to have dinner in Italy next week to catch up. Max took a deep breath and thought about what to say, but before he could come up with anything, an official came over to drag him to the cooldown room, so all he could do was apologize and say goodbye, wishing he could see you again next week. According to Charles you were supposed to be there in Monza, which meant he would have the chance to talk to you.

To properly talk to you and possibly find out more about your life after you quit racing.

He knew in the cooldown room they were supposed to talk about the race, but all he could think about was asking Charles what you talked about, what was so secretive that no one else could hear it? So, in the end he didn’t say much, he just watched the recap of the race and discussed what he saw if it was standing out. Even while standing on the podium, his eyes scanned the crowd under them, trying to find you as if he was playing Where’s Wally?

On the way home, he spent his time browsing your social media accounts, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had never checked them. On X, you were posting about F1 news, commenting on them as a journalist, while on Instagram you focused on sharing more personal posts, like photos of your holiday, your hobbies, or yourself in the paddock. There had been so many of those, how come he hadn’t met you before?

Having a glimpse into your life felt so nice that he hadn’t realized he had scrolled back a few years. Well, not until it turned out he accidentally liked a few of your old photos. If you hadn’t seen the notifications, he wouldn’t have noticed that. But you saw them and weren’t shy to send him a DM about it.

The next few days passed with him regularly checking his DMs to see if you wrote to him again, if you changed your mind and decided to have dinner with him, but there was nothing, so he was forced to wait for the perfect opportunity to talk to you in the paddock in Italy. How he would find you in the flurry of people was a mystery, although he had a fleeting idea that maybe their PR team could help him get a hold of you. Not like that could work, a request like this would certainly give them a stroke, assuming he was planning to give a random interview.

His heart skipped a beat when he noticed you at the press conference, talking to some of the drivers behind the cameras. Your eyes were shining brightly, your smile lit up the room around you, and Max felt like he had been taken back to his childhood when all the boys at their karting races swarmed around you to get a scrap of your attention. But those were hormone-driven teenagers, while these guys were grown men, many of them in serious relationships, so he knew it wasn’t entirely the same situation.

This time Max made sure he could stick around after the interviews, hoping to get a hold of you once you were done. He approached you after everyone left and you decided to chat with someone from the crew. He cleared his throat nervously, subconsciously expecting you to yell at him, to tell him to leave you alone. But your poker face was perfect, because you turned to him with a kind smile and acted like you were ready to have a pleasant chat with him. The crew member left you alone, so only the two of you were left there.

“You either don’t understand the word no, or you just learned to completely ignore it because you always get what you want,” you said with a sigh, the smile long gone by now.

He let the last part of the comment go past his ear, instead he just took a deep breath and began to massage the back of his neck. “Can’t we have a pleasant conversation? Just put everything aside, forget about our shared past, and let’s treat this as a chance for a fresh start.”

You watched him with a thoughtful hum for a while, then nodded. “All right. What would you like to talk about?” you asked with a curious look in your eyes.

“Us.”

“There’s no such thing as us.”

“Too bad, because that’s exactly what I want,” he was quick to inform you, mentally kicking himself for being this straightforward, even if it was true. Because he wanted to see if you would be interested in the 2.0 version of your relationship, the chance to see how your young love would work out in your adult lives. “Are you seeing anyone?”

For a moment you hesitated, but then you shook your head. “No. I don’t really have the time for that,” you replied honestly. Before Max could speak up again, though, you began to talk once more. “But I’m a reporter here, dating a driver would be… unethical. I can’t play favorites,” you explained.

Max took a quick look around, then gently placed a hand on your cheek. “We can figure that out later. Let’s focus on step one, which is going on a first date. Tonight? We can turn to room service to help us out if you don’t want to meet somewhere public,” he told you.

“So you want me all to yourself in your hotel room?” you asked with a teasing smile.

He was sure as hell he blushed, because the idea of what you were suggesting hadn’t occurred to him. Having you alone in his hotel room wasn’t something he consciously planned out, he only wanted to meet you somewhere away from the curious eyes. “It’s not like that,” he told you defensively.

“I know, don’t worry. Send me the when and where,” you said as you patted his shoulder. “See you later, Max.”

Nodding, he watched as you walked away from him. He didn’t say a word–no, he couldn’t say a word. His brain was too busy replaying the way his name rolled off your tongue, that sweet, soft tone of your voice as you said goodbye. With his mind still lost in a pink haze, he returned to their motorhome to gather his things and call it a day. He couldn’t wait to meet you, that was all he could focus on.

A few hours later he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his foot nervously tapping on the floor while he waited. You could be here any minute, and waiting was the worst part. Well, maybe the conversation wouldn’t be that much better, but he could still hope for the best. So when half an hour later there was a knock on his door, his lips curled into a wide smile and he rushed over there to let you in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was held up in the media center,” you apologized the moment the door closed behind you.

Max had to take a deep breath to calm himself. You being close to him again brought back feelings he thought he had long forgotten, and he wanted to give you a kiss, a soft kiss to test the waters with you. But he had to behave, he had no idea where the two of you were standing right now. “It’s okay, don’t worry. So, dinner?” he asked after a short break, giving you a smile.

Food seemed to get you in the mood to chat, because as the two of you enjoyed the various dishes he ordered, you started to tell him about your life after everything that had happened back then. You finished high school like a normal kid, went to college to study journalism, and you managed to get jobs at various places that were related to motorsports, especially F1. That was your dream, to once work with this world, but you were quick to clarify knowing he made it here didn’t give you the idea.

He tried to hide the cocky smirk that wanted to show up on his face, because he was sure what you said weren’t true. A voice in the back of his mind told him you wanted to see him again, that you wanted to get back what had been taken from the two of you all those years ago. After all, why wouldn’t he think that? It didn’t take much convincing to get you to meet him tonight. And if he was delusional? At least it was a nice thought.

It was then his turn to talk, so he told you stories that you had probably never heard, about himself, about the grid, about everything, really. If you asked questions about his family, you focused on his sister and mother, but you were mostly interested in his cats and hobbies. As you told him, you couldn’t understand how he ended up being such a cat dad, but it certainly suited him.

“Charles said he doesn’t get murderous thoughts about you several times a day lately,” you suddenly noted with a short laugh.

Clearing his throat, Max tilted his head to the side. “You talked to him?” he asked casually.

You nodded and took another bite of your pasta. “Yeah, we had dinner yesterday. I remember how the two of you were back then, I was wondering what the situation was now,” you said with a shrug.

A wide grin crept on his face upon hearing this. “So you asked him about me.”

“It was just one question, don’t get too cocky,” you pointed out with a roll of your eyes. “But I’m glad you kinda get along now. It’s nice to see that.”

Max flashed a smile at you, then returned his attention to his dinner. For a while you both ate in silence, but then you got rid of the plates and he found himself wondering what to do next. So he just looked down at his hand and moved it closer to yours, letting his little finger brush against yours as if you were back in your teenage years. You let out a laugh when you noticed, and you looked at him with a kind smile. You weren’t as cold as you had been earlier today, now you seemed to have warmed up to him, ready to give him a chance to show you what he wanted.

So, he took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss you, cautiously moving his lips against yours to make sure he didn’t scare you away. It took you a few seconds, but you eventually eased into the kiss, one of your hands even moving up to his face to keep him close. He couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle that drew a questioning hum out of you. Max shook his head, then he dived in to kiss you again, but at the same time he let his hand wander under your shirt, even though he could have expected what happened next.

Because you pulled away and pushed his hand away from your body. “Stop, don’t… I shouldn’t even be here, I should just go, and–”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do this, don’t push me away. I’m sorry. If you want to slow down, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do, okay?” he asked you, his voice desperate. For a minute or two you remained completely silent, you were just watching him with doe eyes, as if you were trying to process what just happened. “Please, just stay,” he said quietly.

You hesitantly took his hand and gulped loudly as you gathered your thoughts. “Listen, it’s complicated. I already told you, I shouldn’t date drivers, but,” you began, but fell silent without finishing the sentence.

Max cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours. “One step at a time, all right? We’ll figure out if this could even work between us, then we’ll decide how to move on,” he said with a soft smile. When you nodded, he kissed your nose. “Good. Do you want to stay with me and cuddle a little, or would you rather go?”

“We just cuddle, right?” you asked with a thin voice. When he nodded, you let out a soft sigh. “Okay, just for a little while, then I’ll leave.”

But you didn’t leave. The next morning he woke up to you sleeping soundly with your head on his chest, snoring softly while you were lost in your dream world. Max couldn’t stop grinning, he was way too excited and happy to keep a straight face. It felt so nice, so natural, that he wondered how long you would be against it. You clearly wanted this as much as he did, but if you needed time, he was willing to give it to you.

As you lay there, he remembered that vacation all those years ago, when your parents not-so-accidentally bumped into his mom. His first date in a local cinema, watching a movie that was dubbed and neither of you could fully understand it. His first kiss in that movie theater with a girl that was special enough to catch his attention. The way you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder one night when your parents talked a little too long in a restaurant on the beach.

And he was hell-bent on going back to that town to experience everything again as adults. All he needed was you softening enough to let him take care of you in front of the whole world.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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suguru-getos · 2 months

Text

-> Kid Gojo running away from home, meets kid F!Reader. <3

It was weird, the scorching sun of Kyoto was humiliating her very body. Gasping, panting, heavy breathing, she had just run from a few bullies who wanted to take her limited edition water bottle away. For a child who was so doted on, overbearingly so, but somehow it all being a facade, Satoru couldn’t understand his own life, part of him thought it’s fun & he gets to have whatever he wants. Part of him craved what normalcy means, and how he could possibly achieve it in a stigma of innate power & pedastal he’s crowned with. His birthday recently passed, so many gifts & yet gift giving could lack warmth that much & include agendas? Unbearable. This world was unbearable.

His eyes were powerful, he had been practising with his own given the strict routine of Jujutsu being taught in his clan… Gojo clan, Zen’in clan, Kamo clan… how do normal people behave? Ignorance is bliss indeed, or that is something Satoru swears by for the non-sorcerer community.

Ignorance is utterly blissful, why else was she running towards him without a fear of her life? His eyes widened, school uniform, tattered & bruised knees, beautiful hair that are utter opposite to his, eyes gleaming, happy— kind— before Satoru could say anything, both her hands clasped his arm, using him as a leverage, she hid behind him.

Now, Satoru can handle all the trouble in the world. Small kid with small hands knew his worth, knew his birth shook the sorcerer community & he is god-like. Still, this normalcy felt endearing. The fact that she didn’t ask him, or bow in front of him to be allowed to touch Satoru was, new.

He turned his head to look at her, what was she running from. His gorgeous blue eyes met hers, thick lashes batting in curiosity, “Ano- what are you running from?” He asked, a slight snobbish arrogance lacing his sentence. He just isn’t used to any other way. Could it be that she was being haunted by a curse? What was tormenting this beautiful girl?

“How old are you?” Satoru continued, asking another question.

“I’m eight, turning nine soon. My name is Y/N. I am running from a few people in my school, they want my water bottle & they get anythin’ they want from anyone…” she pouted big, showing Satoru her water bottle. It looked cute, he’d give it that, but for someone who always has whatever he wants, the idea of people bothering someone else for materialistic things seemed unfit.

“Pretty bottle.” He said, taking it from her & examining it further. Maybe he’s missing something? There has to be something valuable about it… he even tried using six eyes to understand, nope… nothing. Just an ordinary bottle in the hands of an ordinary girl.

“They won’t bother you, I am here. I’m really strong.” He grins, so far he’s always been told he’s really strong but this time he has used this to forge his own identity. “Yeah?” She raised a brow, slightly skeptical.

“Yeah- I am already ten years old. Senpai.” Satoru smirked again, what a tiny lady being bothered by a tiny bottle.

“Well, if you really can protect me from those bullies, I can take you home and make you meet my mom. She makes amazing cookies, & she is making a cake today, Fridays are baking days.” This time, the girl grinned back, just as chirpy and excited. Happily accepting herself to be under Satoru’s wing.

The strongest sorcerer in the world, was still a kid. Needed to be loved like a kid. “I could get any cookies I want.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, not my mum’s cookies.” She resisted, pouting & yanking the bottle away.

What was about her mom’s cookies which could be that special? Satoru raised his brows, he has promised to protect someone & what kinda man would he be if he doesn’t keep his promise?

“Okay, I’ll go home with you.” He nods, besides, there is a special naughty joy that erupts in his childish psyche to imagine his butlers being scolded.

Satoru Gojo didn’t have a normal life, yet. This was a good start, maybe a frequent spot to visit when he escapes his gruesome trainings & his role to save the world.

#gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #gojo imagines #gojo comfort #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen comfort #satoru gojo

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notafunkiller · 9 months

Text

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #boss!bucky barnes #boss!bucky #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #rich!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 5 months

Note

puppy!reader trying to break up with rafe or just distancing herself because she overheard someone saying they couldn’t understand how rafe could be with a pogue and it hurts her feelings and has her overthinking :( (obviously rafe later on gets her to tell him who said that and he deals with it)

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

he was used to you being all over him. if you weren’t constantly yapping in his ear, you were using him like a climbing frame, subtly rubbing your needy cunt on his leg or trying to stick a body part of his in your mouth. so, the difference in your behaviour all of a sudden was palpable.

you’d been at the country club. not particularly because you liked it there, you knew despite recently joining the kook life people still saw you as less than — but you had to say, the icecream they served was top notch, and you wouldn’t keep yourself away despite being told off plenty of times by rafe for overdoing it on the sugar and then getting hyperactive.

you step away from the counter with your cone, smiling to yourself at the small victory when your ears picks up on a conversation round the corner. you stop in your tracks, realising it’s about you.

“i mean she’s definitely hot, i’ll give him that. in like, a weird way. she’s got the whole ‘fuck me daddy’ thing going on, you know. she’s helpless. rafes gotta be fuckin’ her.” a kook you didn’t even recognise comments, sipping at his beer.

“dont be weird, bro.” another turns his nose up.

“its true! i dont care man, i know rafe — he fuckin’ hates pogues, he wouldn’t be caught dead with one, ‘specially not one as obvious as her. the girls a mess, and mommy and daddy suddenly coming into money ain’t gonna change that about her.”

your heart sinks as you continue to listen to the berating. in the north carolina heat, icecream didn’t stay structurally sound for long — and you’re only dragged out of your eavesdropping session when the dome of strawberry icecream slides straight off its podium, splatting on the floor besides your sandals, leaving you with just the cone in your hand. you stare down at it, barely registering the loss.

you’d overthought it— something rather uncommon of you. when a few hours had passed, and rafe hadn’t had you hurtling through his front door with a ladybug on your finger or something of the sorts, he actually wondered where you might be— so he showed up at your door.

you wasn’t expecting him. he never chased you, always letting you come to him first — but something felt off, and his curiosity got the better of him.

“w—what is this, you not comin’ over to bother me today?” he shakes his head and your brows crease, staring at the eldest cameron in your doorway.

“no…” you reply quietly, even going the extra length to avoid his eyes. you weren’t trying to be obvious about it, but you couldn’t help that you were upset. he stares at you for a moment, unnerved by your unusual mood.

“…well can i come in or what?”

you allow him, purely because despite your mood you didn’t like to be impolite.

“whats up with you? i already told you to stop watchin’ those animal planet documentaries, kid. they upset you, alright i—”

“i wasn’t.” you snap, and he looks over — your tone grabbing his attention from wandering around your living room, seeing you standing in the corner clutching yourself like you didn’t know what to do. you were so used to being all over him that standing by yourself felt odd.

he scratches his cheek awkwardly, eyes flickering over you. “shit, you mad at me or somethin’?”

slowly, you sit down on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you.

“i’m just trying to give you space.”

he huffs a laugh out from his chest, thinking you’re joking — but his smile fades a little when he sees that you’re not. “yeah? you were all over me yesterday, now what — you shy?”

“i’m a pogue.” you raise your voice over his just a tad, bringing your knees to your chest. the statement catches him off guard, and he sways awkwardly on the spot, watching you.

“yeah no shit. so what.” he drawls, and his agreement stings.

“you hate pogues. so… you hate me.” you draw the conclusion and he fights an eyeroll, walking over to where you’re sat briskly.

“listen if i hated you you’d fuckin’ know about it, alright? i don’t hate you. you’re a pain in my ass, but… but nah.” he shakes his head, settling down on the seat next to you and pushing his hair back, not enjoying the idea of being vulnerable. it made him a little uncomfortable. “where… where is this coming from anyways? since when did you give a shit ‘bout all that?”

“since the people at the club were saying stuff.” you mutter, and now he’s really invested. his head snaps towards you, arm freezing in the air from pushing his hair out of his face. he could tolerate the weird moods, but he wouldn’t tolerate people disrespecting you or him.

“huh?”

your lip starts to tremble at the memory, voice growing higher as you speak. “there was a group of boys, and they were saying i was a mess and that im nothing and that you had to be fucking me because that’s the only thing i could offer you and i dropped my icecream and—”

“what?” he turns his whole body towards you as you let out a quiet sob, wide eyes darting between your wet one.

“i dropped my icecream!”

“no— kid, who was saying this shit?” his outrage is somewhat comforting and you sniffle, wiping your snotty nose on the back of your hand.

“i don’t know his name. he had a green shirt on.”

he leans back in his seat for a moment, wiping hands down his face — a little frustrated with your inability to identify the culprits. he pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, realising it’s not your fault — and you were already upset. sighing out his nose, he looks at you once more, shuffling as close to you as he can.

“quit listenin’ to nobodies at the club, a’ight? you… you think people don’t say shit about me? running their mouth about my private business? they — they do, alright— but what i don’t do is cry about it n’let them think they won. i handle that shit, like i’m gonna handle this.”

you blink at him, hanging onto his every word. you really were adorable, and as much as he’ll never admit it, his heart softens at how sweet you were by nature. you didn’t deserve to be picked on by people that weren’t him.

“how do you know who they are?” you tilt your head, really emulating a puppy and he presses his lips together, shrugging a shoulder and shaking his head.

“uh, you’re gonna point ‘em out next time we go to the club. i’ll… i’ll handle it from there.”

you nod, hating that you’ve caused any kind of conflict at all, eyes drifting towards as you burrow yourself into thoughts of guilt. before you can think too much, rafe grips your jaw — meaning well, but still carrying that boyish roughness. “hey. you’re my girl, alright? i don’t let shit slide.”

he’d never called you his girl before, so instantly — you’re all sniffly smiles, launching at him to clamber onto his lap once more.

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

#anon #puppy!reader #rafe cameron prompt

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that-house · 1 month

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“Tell me about magic,” I said to the god wearing my friend’s corpse.

It (I would not grant it the honor of using her name) smiled at me the way she used to smile. It looked like shit, by the way, streaked with mud and blood and slowly spinning new flesh from atmospheric carbon to patch up the bullet holes our latest acquaintances had left it.

“I know every word in your human languages and none of them suffice. How would you explain a black hole’s accretion disk to a fish?”

“I don’t know. Try.” I didn’t bother voicing the threat but it was implicit, as it was in all of our conversations: your kind has died only once before, but it was at the hands of mine.

It sighed with the weariness of a parent about to talk down to a kid, but it signed up for this when it trapped itself on this rock with me. “It’s a puzzle that’s almost been solved since forever began, a puzzle of infinite complexity worked on by the million sharpest minds to ever be, all themselves fractured into dizzying arrays of subminds in temporally upspun pocket universes, all striving to refine those secret arts of law and mastery. It’s cooperation and competition, vines of knowledge strangling each other as we reach ever upwards towards the sun, clawing at each other in our desperate want. It’s a science. It’s like breathing. It’s like love.”

“I distinctly recall you saying that love is an idiocy reserved for us mortals, and a more efficient chemically-induced blindness than sodium hydroxide too.”

“And I maintain that stance, but it gets the point across, does it not?” It huffed with exasperation, you know, the way that she had a thousand times when we were young. An affectation? Or a bit of humanity bleeding into the monster?

“Mhm. Sure.”

It side-eyed me but kept talking. “You don’t have the point of view it would take to truly understand magic. You never will. Even if you saw the world the way I did, you wouldn’t have the context or the time to decipher it. For you it can never be a science, only ever an art.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“In truth I envied you. With infinity at one’s proverbial fingertips, what else is there to do? The greatest possible workings have all been deduced, those most absolute and inviolable inflictions of the will upon the cosmos, and all that remains to study are the fleeting shadows of concepts beyond even us. But you humans, you tread on new ground that we’ve long since mastered, internalized, and then forgotten. The best you can manage without literally blowing your own minds is a little teleportation. You’re clueless and flawed and you fuck it all up whenever you get the chance. And I envied you.” For a creature enamored with paradox, the idea of a god envying a mortal sure pained it.

“So you cut it all free, cast off the godhead, and came down from on high to slum it with we mortals. I bet you’re regretting that now,” I said, sticking my finger in the last bullet hole and giving it an experimental wiggle. It winced, but the wound closed up like it had never been as I withdrew my finger. Pain is a just a signal, it was always fond of saying. But it still cried whenever it lost a limb.

“Not in the slightest,” said the once-god wearing my friend’s corpse. “This is the most alive I’ve felt in eons.”

#viscera star #kind of #this is a scene i wont ACTUALLY put to paper for like. Years #but i wanted to write something today and it was this #and fuck it i figured i might as well post it #lucy viscera star #katie viscera star

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br0kenangel · 1 month

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𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐘: 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

The Red Keep was a place of beauty, grandeur, and luxury—a place where everything was meant to be perfect, from the tapestries on the walls to the gowns worn by the ladies of the court. It was a place where you, the embodiment of elegance and grace, thrived. You were known as the beauty, a title you wore like a crown, and you made sure that your appearance reflected nothing less than perfection.

But as of late, there had been something—or rather, someone—who had been disturbing that sense of perfection. That someone was your little brother, Aegon, a child who, in your eyes, was the complete opposite of everything you held dear.

It wasn’t just that he was a child—though that was annoying enough on its own. No, what truly disturbed you was the state he always seemed to be in. His hair was a mess of tangled silver curls, his clothes always dirty, wrinkled, and utterly soulless. You couldn’t understand how anyone could allow a prince—your future husband—to look so… disgusting.

The thought made your skin crawl.

You had tried to ignore it, hoping that someone—anyone—would take the initiative to correct the problem. But no one did. And so, after seeing him one too many times running around the gardens, covered in dirt and wearing those horrid little tunics, you decided you had had enough.

You stormed through the halls of the Red Keep, your gown billowing behind you as you made your way to Queen Alicent’s chambers. When you arrived, you didn’t even bother to wait for the guards to announce you. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, your expression a mixture of determination and disgust.

Alicent looked up from her embroidery, startled by your sudden entrance. “Y/N,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Is something the matter?”

You didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Yes, there is,” you replied, your tone sharp. “It’s about Aegon.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Is he alright?”

“Physically, yes,” you answered, your words clipped. “But his appearance is another matter entirely. He’s always dirty, his clothes are atrocious, and his hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. Frankly, it’s an embarrassment. He’s a prince, not some common street urchin.”

“He’s just a child,” she said gently. “Children get dirty; they play, they explore—”

“I don’t care,” you cut her off, your voice firm. “If I am to be his wife, then I refuse to be associated with someone who looks like that. If you cannot ensure that he is properly taken care of, then I will do it myself.”

The queen looked taken aback by your words, but after a moment, she sighed and nodded. “Very well,” she said quietly. “If that is what you wish, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you gave a curt nod and turned on your heel, leaving the chamber as swiftly as you had entered. Your mind was already working on the changes you would make—starting with getting rid of every single one of those dreadful tunics he wore.

You found Aegon in the gardens, as expected. He was playing in the dirt again, his little hands caked with mud as he babbled happily to himself. The sight made you grimace in disgust. How could anyone let a prince get so filthy?

“Aegon!” you called sharply, making him look up in surprise.

He beamed when he saw you, his face lighting up with that innocent joy that only a child could muster. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, starting to run toward you, his arms outstretched.

“Stop right there,” you ordered, holding up a hand to halt him in his tracks. “Don’t touch me with those dirty hands.”

Aegon’s face fell, his little smile fading as he looked down at his mud-covered fingers. He seemed confused, hurt even, but you didn’t let it sway you. You had a job to do.

“Come with me,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to get you cleaned up.”

Aegon followed you obediently, though he kept a small distance, as if he was unsure whether he was in trouble or not. You led him back inside, where you summoned a group of maids and ordered them to take him away for a proper bath.

“Make sure he’s thoroughly cleaned,” you instructed them, your tone cold and precise. “I want him spotless.”

The maids nodded and took Aegon away, leaving you alone to begin your next task. You made your way to his chambers, where you ordered all of his old clothes to be removed and replaced with the finest silks and velvets. You personally oversaw the selection, choosing only the best fabrics, the richest colors, and the most elegant designs.

By the time Aegon was brought to you, freshly bathed and dressed in a simple but luxurious robe, you were ready for the next step. You had already laid out a few options for his new wardrobe and were just finishing your final selections when the maids brought him into the room.

Aegon looked at you with wide, curious eyes, his freshly washed hair falling in soft curls around his face. He looked much better already, but there was still work to be done.

“Come here,” you said, gesturing for him to sit on the stool in front of you.

He hesitated for a moment, but then obeyed, climbing up onto the stool and sitting as still as he could. You picked up a brush and began to work on his hair, frowning as you encountered knot after knot. Aegon winced, letting out small whimpers of pain as the brush tugged at his tangled curls.

“Stay still,” you ordered, your voice firm but not unkind. “A prince must be strong and brave. He cannot cry over something as simple as having his hair brushed.”

Aegon bit his lip, trying his best to remain silent as you continued to work on his hair. It took longer than you anticipated, but eventually, his curls were smooth and glossy, falling neatly around his face.

You set the brush aside and took a step back, admiring your work. He looked much better now—clean, well-dressed, and presentable. A proper little prince.

“There,” you said, satisfied. “That’s much better.”

Aegon looked up at you with wide eyes, still unsure of what to make of all this. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice small, “you mad at Aegon?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No, Aegon,” you replied, your tone softening slightly. “I’m not mad. I just want you to look your best. You’re going to be my husband one day, and I can’t have you running around looking like… like that.” You gestured vaguely to the memory of his earlier state.

Aegon stared at you for a moment, then suddenly reached out and hugged you, his little arms wrapping around your waist. “love you, wifey,” he mumbled against your gown, his voice muffled but sincere.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “I-I told you not to call me that.” you stammered, your usual composure slipping for a moment.

“Wifey,” Aegon repeated, looking up at you with those big violet eyes, full of trust and affection.

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to correct him, to tell him that he shouldn’t call you that until you were actually married. But another part of you—one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge—found it oddly endearing.

Instead of saying anything, you let out a small sigh and gently lifted him into your arms, carrying him over to the bed. “Alright,” you said softly, trying to keep the affection out of your voice. “It’s time for bed.”

You dressed him in a pair of soft, silky nightclothes that you had selected earlier, making sure they were comfortable and warm. Then you tucked him into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Aegon reached out for you as you moved to leave, his small hand grabbing onto your sleeve. “Wifey, stay with Aegon,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Please?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed and climbed into the bed beside him. You let him snuggle close, his little body warm against yours as he rested his head on your shoulder.

As you lay there, listening to his soft, even breaths, you found yourself humming a lullaby, the tune soft and soothing in the quiet of the room. Aegon’s grip on your sleeve relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, his face peaceful and content.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply enjoy the quiet, the warmth of his small body curled up against yours. It wasn’t something you had ever imagined doing—caring for a child, even if that child was your future husband—but as you watched him sleep, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment.

“I just want the best for you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you brushed a strand of silver hair from his forehead.

Aegon mumbled something in his sleep, his little hand grasping for yours. You hesitated before allowing your fingers to gently intertwine with his. The softness of his small hand in yours was surprisingly comforting, though you would never admit it aloud.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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lucysarah-c · 2 months

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Levi's horrible flirting skills part 6.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

“I simply do not understand… we were talking so well and all of a sudden—!”

“You called her stupid.”

“And naive,” Hange added after Erwin, almost tired, while taking a messy sip from his tea, not bothering to raise his head properly.

Levi clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair and almost tugging at it out of frustration. “I was just trying to tell her I was worried about her!”

“You’ve a very peculiar way of expressing your concerns,” Erwin remarked, raising one thick eyebrow at his friend's illogical actions. Unlike Hange, he raised his cup to his lips with elegant, measured movements.

“UGH!” Levi bent over the table where they should have been having a tactical meeting, but instead were having a catch-up moment as friends. His forehead hit the polished wood covered with glass, and he scoffed against the surface in frustration, fogging it up.

“You should have known,” Erwin said softly, shaking his head with closed eyes as if the outcome was easily predicted, like a palm reader foretelling your life. “When a woman asks you to repeat something, it’s not because she hasn’t heard you. It’s because she wants to see if you have the guts to say it to her face. That’s the precise moment you should buckle up, fold the imaginary paper where you wrote your speech, smile, and say, ‘nothing, honey.’”

Hange frowned deeply, even curling her lip in disdain. “Since when are you such an expert on how to keep a woman?”

The blond put down his tea and looked at the squad leader, almost offended. “Excuse me, I had a very long relationship with Marie before we broke up. I learned a trick or two.”

“Whatever, I fucked up and it’s all wasted now,” Levi said woebegone, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes looking to the side, completely bereaved. He couldn’t complete a single sentence without clicking his tongue or sighing in resignation.

“Oi! Come on, shorty! You just have to go and apologise. Don’t be such a coward,” Hange tried to raise her friend’s spirits.

“Yeah… but give her a couple of days. Let her cool down a little bit,” Erwin added, fearing that Hange’s enthusiasm might cause Levi to make another mistake.

But perhaps waiting a couple of days became weeks. Between work and each time he tried to lock eyes with her, she either completely ignored his presence or didn’t seem particularly happy.

While it was still freezing cold, certain trees began to bud, and the sun warmed more than usual on some days. Early one morning, he saw her again, walking on the front sidewalk with five friends, each holding something from a nearby pastry shop. Her face had the softness and lethargic appearance of someone who had just woken up.

Clenching his teeth and with hopeful eyes, his body naturally straightened from his slouched position against a wall. He thought of taking one hand out of his pocket and waving at her casually, worried, and timid as he was that time on the boat.

“Good morning, Captain,” three youthful cadets passed by and bumped into him with suspicious dorkiness. Their rosy cheeks and shining eyes made Levi slightly uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even noticed them, and the loss of focus on his main objective made him turn back frantically to where he was looking. She was already gone.

“Morning,” he replied disinterestedly to the girls who still wore their training ground jackets with swords on their backs. Levi returned to his slouched position, head down. He quickly heard the little girls giggle enthusiastically, muttering among themselves as they hurried away, thinking they were far enough for him not to notice.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” one whispered. Levi grimaced uneasily; he knew better than anyone that at their age, having silly little crushes on higher-ups was normal. ‘What are you, 13? You should be worried if I looked at you like that.’

He sighed loudly. ‘What would it take for you to look at me like that?’

Not that he daydreamed of her being like them, but he wished for the enthusiasm. Sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, nervous chuckles, and rushed steps to tell a friend.

‘I can’t just keep spying on you from afar like a creep. I’ve run out of innocent excuses to pass by your workplace.’

“Well, it’s decided. On the 2nd of March, we leave again,” Erwin announced as he exited the building with signed papers.

‘I don’t want to die without having at least something with you.’

Such a simple thought. For a split second, which lasted days, he wondered if it was a sort of fetish he hadn’t added to his list. But as another nurse, with the same uniform and the same soft touch, stitched up a cut he got when he came back and looked up at him from his left side, he felt nothing.

It reminded him so much of when she had tricked him into getting a vaccine, but it had no power over him. With her, it was like he couldn’t get her face closer without fighting the overwhelming need to grab it and kiss her.

‘Once again, do I really need to tell you that I’m dying to have a single silly chance with you?’

Something that feels utterly humiliating, like apologizing or confessing, really fades into oblivion when you’re visiting cadets half your age who are either dying or won’t be able to live a standard life after walking beside you to near-certain death. Levi looked at his soldiers in immaculate rooms and whitish beds, their bodies and faces blending into the sheets as they were covered in bandages the same shade as the rest of the room.

“Did I do good, Captain?”

Levi’s eyes opened slightly wider as he came back from his mental storm. “Yes, you did great, soldier. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

He wondered, only sometimes, if his words really held any real power. But they always muffled cries of relief and pain.

‘I’m being a fucking coward, that’s what I am.’

As the family members arrived in the room or fell asleep, Levi left. ‘Even a kick in the ass pushes you forward.’

He took secure steps down the halls. It was very late, and there was no security that she might be in the staff area. Or perhaps there was; he had learned which days she was on duty. Was it a bit on the stalker side? Perhaps. But Levi took pride in knowing her and wished to know much more.

It was stupid, but he held on to that information. Sometimes he was miles away in his office doing paperwork late at night, looked up at the clock on the wall, noticed the time, and something clicked in his mind. He would check the calendar and worry. The huge hospital, empty corridors, or long hours of staying up helping women in labor or taking care of the ill. Perhaps returning home when the sun hadn’t completely risen yet. He was miles away, but he worried.

‘I just need to know… I need to know if she’s alright, if she’s safe.’

That had been the reason for this whole issue, but this time he was confident in solving it or at least trying to.

He pushed open the door to the staff area. The room was freezing, either because it was in the basement or because the heating budget was spent on the patients. He froze momentarily when her pitched scream and little jump echoed in the room.

“DEAR Shenna! You scared me!” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her chest to calm her heart and sighing loudly. She had a cardigan over her uniform and rubbed her arms to keep warm.

Her body was next to the stove where she was warming up a kettle, her frown haunting him across the room. She said nothing, only scoffed and kept silent.

‘This seemed ten times easier in my mind five seconds ago.’

He pushed the door closed with his body, giving serious thought to the words he was going to use.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was just me bitching,” Levi said, raising a white flag in the mental no man’s land they held. It earned him a sidelong glance, but her body language showed she hadn’t completely given in. “Tch, what I am trying to say,” he scratched the back of his head, feeling the sensation of his undercut beneath his fingertips, “You’re not stupid, but you’re too nice, and assholes like him abuse that.”

This time she turned to him slightly, still folding her arms to hold in the warmth, looking tired. “I’m not naive. I know my boss can’t keep his hands to himself,” her voice was hushed, either because it was late or because she seemed exhausted. “But not all of us are Humanity’s strongest, held in such high esteem by the military. I could lose my job. He could make my life a living nightmare. Plus, I prefer he bothers me rather than the new girls who are too young and too impressionable. No, Captain, I’m not stupid.”

Levi wondered if his admiration was as palpable in his features as he felt it. ‘I’m not stupid,’ his mind repeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right. The stupid one is me.’

A young woman who held her own, whom he met having fun with her friends at a party, all of them keeping each other safe, who lived on her own. She wouldn’t have survived the Capital if she was stupid. Levi knew firsthand how those environments shaped you: either you blend with them or you break.

She sighed once again, “The last thing I need this week is to argue with you.”

It made him want to ask what else had happened, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he rose from his slouched position against the door, walked to the countertops next to her, and rested there.

“It’s fucking freezing here,” he said, hoping the little shaky fire from the stove would warm the air more.

“Yeah… I can’t feel my feet,” she replied. “You look good, though.” This time, she managed a side smile, perhaps too tired to smile fully.

Levi quickly assumed she was referring to his recent return. “Yeah, it was a shitty mess of an expedition, though.”

She hummed. “I heard. A lot of rain, I’m sorry.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing her apology as she held no responsibility. “Tch… about your boss, someone should put him in his place.”

Her eyes rolled as she chuckled. “Who is going to do it? The MPs who go to men-only parties with him?” she joked, though her words carried no humour.

Levi, unable to stop looking at her face, said, “I could cut his balls off for a modest price.”

She giggled, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip to suppress her chuckles. But he felt his chest warm up. ‘Holy shit,’ he thought, feeling pride at making her laugh genuinely for the first time. ‘I wish I knew another fucking joke to pull off.’

“You’ll go to jail if you do that,” she replied, entertained. As the conversation flowed easily, her sleepiness slipped away. “You’ll go to jail, and Erwin will kill me for losing his best soldier.”

“No, I’m the stupid military board’s favourite, didn’t you say that? They’re too scared because I’m the only one who could kill the titans if they break another wall. I’ll just pull off a shitty excuse,” he replied, bending slightly forward and closing the space between them.

“And your excuse, Captain?”

The way his title rolled off her tongue, it was just not holy what it created in his system.

“He’s fucking tall… maybe I confused him with a weird titan who has balls… or should I say had?”

This time she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she showed her teeth. She tried to cover it with her left hand, and Levi was tempted to hold it down so he could still see her laugh.

The little slap of her hand against his arm caught him off guard. It didn’t hurt, but the proximity surprised him. “Stop it, you’re going to get me punished. This is a hospital; we should keep quiet,” she whispered.

She was so close, both bending forward. ‘Maybe I should just fucking go for it. Go big or go home,’ he thought. But she straightened up, pushing the sleeve of her cardigan further into her hand to use it to grab the kettle that was already whistling.

Back to being slouched against the countertop, he lost his chance. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to the cup with the tea ready for her to pour the water.

“You want one?” she asked, and Levi tried to hide the fact that he was mesmerised by the way her hips moved in the skirt. He just nodded. “So, what’s your modest price, Captain?”

“Huh?” The question confused him, as his mind couldn’t think of two things at once. He tried to remember his own words while thinking that she had the best ass inside the walls. Men’s brains have limitations.

“You said,” she began, pulling another cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water, “that you would do it for a modest price. What’s your modest price?”

His brain was still recovering from seeing her laugh next to him about a joke he made, the cute little swing of her uniform as she walked, her cheeky smile as she looked at him. It was hard to come back from that and reply as he usually would. No actual thoughts, no consequences.

“You going out on a date with me.”

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atyourmerci · 6 months

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☀︎To the light is to the darkness✩

Abby X reader X Ellie

Prologue to vengeance (can be read alone)

☀︎ ☀︎

Summary: Abby is your childhood best friend, you did everything together, taught each other everything. You were utterly infatuated with each other until Ellie Williams enters your world.

Warning: smut, MDNI, porn w lots of plot, innocence arc, mutual pining, lots of sexual tension, mutual masturbation (in the same room, together), fingering if you squint, useless lesbians, lesbian love triangle, abby needs a hug, phoebe bridgers as her own warning, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: okay so holy fuck did I get carried away with this one. I didn’t want to leave yall on a cliffhanger but this dynamic deserves more and I don’t want to rush through it. I hope yall enjoy. This chapter is mostly just abby but there will be lots more Ellie in the next chapter promise :)

✩ ✩

“Someone you couldn’t lose. You said we’re not together, so now when we kiss I have anger issues.”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

A relationship that felt more of interlacing two souls into one that resided in two structures. Shared autonomy of mind, breath, word, and body. Unspoken feelings, touches, and stares.

What started in green fields of pink flowers and brown roots ended in dark rooms and pining embraces. Hand shakes turning into interlaced fingers, laughter filled glances turning into tense stares, and experimental pecks turning into open mouthed pants.

The first time you meet abby was at school at 15. Bright eyed and bushy tailed still untainted from the reality of the world around you. You were quite shy in those years, keeping yourself away from the wild hairs of children ready to grow up and take charge. You were okay with the stability of childhood, the sticky sweet feeling of safety and uncharted terror.

Before Abby’s dad had died, before the muscles and long locks of golden blonde hair she was reserved too. Abby was wrapped in a bubble of comfort, a loving community that doted on her. She felt no need to join the crowd of chaos when she had everything she needed.

Well she thought she did…and then she met you.

In class you had your face shoved into a notebook doodling away of ferns and dandelions you had seen in the fields early that day. If it were up to you, you’d spend every last dying breath in the fields, soaking in sunlight and trailing your fingers through the rows of flowers.

Abby sat next to you in class, always too shy to speak up to you. You always seemed so busy, either reading, drawing, or with your head in the clouds, never truly listening to the lecture ahead. She admired your creativity, attention to detail, and the utter sense of unawareness to your surroundings. She wondered why you didn’t talk to the others, you were so inviting, so pretty. She once wished to look like you, how effortlessly magnificent you looked.

She grew too curious, over zealous at the thought of being close to you, understanding you. She knew she had to speak up.

“H-hey you draw pretty cool- I mean- it’s really good…what you draw.”

You had never taken more than a glance at the freckled girl until then. She always seemed just as busy as you, so you never bothered her.

You let out a bellied laugh at the now crimson red faced girl- completely embarrassed by her attempt at recognition.

And that was that. The two of you were inseparable, attached at the hip from then on out.

Abby seemed to understand your weird quirks and odd fascinations. Even when she didn’t, she was there open minded and wide eyed to hear your lengthy ramblings on about nothingness.

Sometimes it felt like you did most of the talking. Not that it was one sided or you wouldn’t let her butt in, but rather she was completely enamored by what you thought. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to hear you talk, you were her favorite person, the own mold of herself.

She wanted to think what you thought, feel what you felt, see the world through your eyes.

As the years went on you only seemed to grow closer to abby as she grew fonder of you.

Some could call it an obsession, the way you treated each other. Not a single thought went by that the other didn’t know. If you were there, so was abby. If you knew something, so did she.

Everyday she would follow you to the fields after school, your special escape you’d learn to share with the other half of your being.

You’d make her lay across the flower ridden fields so you could draw her glistening hair kissed by the whisk of wind. She let her hair grow longer since you’d ask to braid it for her every morning. She liked it short but she wanted to let you have room to make intricate designs and lace them with weeds you’d found.

Abby would playfully nudge you when you’d draw the hump on her nose in the drawings, but you loved it too much to not appreciate it. You loved all the things she couldn’t in herself.

You two spent hours out in the field daily, even when it rained you’d make her dance around like fairies as mud splattered across your shins. Anything you wanted, she’d do as long as it was with you.

That’s when you asked her to try kissing, she’d obliged.

“Have you ever…kissed anyone?” You ask staring off into the cloud painted sky, tall grass framing your bodies.

She lets out a breathy giggle, “no… you would know if I did.”

You shrug, shoulder crashing gently into hers, “I don’t know, maybe it was too embarrassing to say.”

She trails off, “h-have you?”

“No dumbass you would know…” you push your shoulder into her turning to give her a toothy smile, “what if I’m not good when a boy kisses me?”

Her eyes remained trained onto the pillowy cloud, “you can try on me- I-if you want to.”

It was a good idea, she wasn’t going to judge you, she was your best friend, she was only there to help.

“Okay.” And without a second thought your upper body shot up and lent over hers, pressing your lips into her plush pink ones. It was gentle, only a placement amongst the flesh, yet so charged. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and up to your throat, something you had only felt once before when you and abby went swimming.

Closeness you thought. Being close to someone causes that. How nice it was to be so close to your favorite person, maybe one day you could feel close to someone again.

After that you continued to experiment kissing. At sleepovers you’d talk about the boys you wanted to kiss, then show each other how you would kiss them. It turned into an innocent routine, pecking her before she would leave, kissing her in the fields when you felt the butterflies.

You’d told her about them- the fluttering in your stomach. Whenever you felt them she told you that she wanted to feel them too. Transferring them through the soft pink flesh, she’d say she’d feel them after.

Soon she’d tell you when she got them, to which you’d return the gesture back. As time went on, the butterflies came more often.

People were starting to notice the relationship, started talking about how close the two of you were. You’d shoo off the irrational comments and over zealous accusations, but abby never did. She just didn’t respond.

“Who am I to ask for more? But you’re breathing in my open mouth. You’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

Abby started spending the night daily, she practically lived in your room at that point. After her dad died your relationship grew stronger than ever. In such a treacherous time she clung to the only person who truly understood her. Many a nights she spent huddled into a ball in your lap weeping as you smoothed the hair behind her ear and rubbing circles into the grown muscles in her back.

Abby had taken to working her emotions out in physical labor. Now being a solider full time out of school she had grown muscular and more rough. Her heart was still the same for you, but had grown caged off to the people around you.

Her pleasantries for the rest of the community had grown stale, only allowing a few to get near her. But you… there was always an indefinite spot inside her for you.

Since abby was always around now, in the darkness of every night, privacy had flown right out the window. Not that you had minded- there wasn’t much of really anything abby didn’t know or hadn’t seen.

But when that eery sense of familiarity crept up, when the butterflies would come at night.

She had started out sleeping on the extra bed in your room. Before she had practically moved in she’d sleep with you, but since her stay turned to no vacancy she’d taken to given you the last sense of space, even when you hadn’t asked.

In the middle of darkness as the crickets chirped outside the window you’d tell her the feeling had come back, and she’d always agree, and the room would fall silent again.

“Abby?” You call out to a darkened room, illuminated by the shine of the moon.

“Yeah?” She’d call back from the other side.

“Do you ever…fix the feelings of the butterflies. Like make them go away?”

“Uh yeah- sometimes…when it gets bad.”

“I think mine are…bad right now,” it felt embarrassing almost, there was nothing she could do to help, fix your issue. Transferring the butterflies to abby only made them worse sometimes, and you were boiling.

“M-mine too,” she admits.

“You can fix it- if you need to.”

“A-re you going to stop yours?”

“Is that okay?” You say reluctantly into the tense air coating you. Every slight move felt with a million nerves.

“Mhmm,” she responds, a rustling heard coming from her direction.

Soft hums filled the air from the feeling of release you had allowed yourself in the presence of your best friend. Abby’s breathy moans would only follow quickly after your own, never before.

Dual release become a routine. Allowing the sticky sweet sensations of climaxing in the same bedroom of your other half. It became another thing you shared with her, another check on the list of the endeavors you’d participated in with her.

Talks of the butterflies and the unleashing of them never left those four chipping walls. Some things were meant for just Abby’s ears. All best friends must do the same. You’d never heard of others talk of sorts so you sealed your lips, a secret kept like a bird in a cage.

As you both had grown accustomed to the routine things gradually got more intense. Sometimes you couldn’t get the butterflies to fly away even when you tried for hours, panting out whimpers of frustration. Even when they would go away sometimes they would crept back in immediately, your body unable to be satiated.

Abby begun sleeping in the bed with you, to calm the frustrating unnerve you felt after no avail. She’d tell you she wish she could help you, make them go away. She’d do anything to make you happy.

That’s when you started touching yourselves next to each other. The routine was upheld for so long that it felt natural to do it even when she was right next to you. First fully covered, then in undergarments, to finally completely bare.

Seeing Abby’s bare flesh only made it worse. You weren’t stupid, the pieces were falling into place before your eyes. But you hadn’t seen anyone else naked before, maybe it would be the same. Her flesh so pale, her nipples shades of pale pink roses, and the hair that trailed down to her folds as golden as wheat. You had never seen something so magnificent, so beautifully crafted.

That was something you didn’t share with her. The drawings of her bare flesh. You made sure to memorize each chisel, line, and freckle to be as accurate as possible once you got to your notebook. With every piece of her revealed opening thousands of opportunities to draw her art. She was so fucking beautiful.

“When was the first time?” The auburn girl had asked you.

It all had meshed into a blur, what had happened and when it did. When you and abby had started sleeping together it started on opposite ends. Heat not close enough to sting your flesh but the air still tense enough to be cut clean with a blade. As time grew on and the routine becoming daily, the space between you started to close in. Knees brushing as your legs wavered, arms transferring sticky sweat in the blistering heat of arousal.

The inevitable placement of foreheads touching as you watched each other fall apart, watching the butterflies flutter out of her throat with every pant.

From what you could call the ‘beginning’ of sorts, rather an act of mercy, came from her.

You found yourself in the familiar position of unnerve. Rubbing aimless quick circles on your abused clit. It became a matter of principle at the point, needing to fulfill the urge even knowing the outcome would leave you more helpless than before. Abby’s butterflies were far gone, now rubbing lazy stripes down her slit in attempt to not let you feel alone. She never wanted you to feel like she wasn’t completely enthralled by your every move.

Your leg sprawled across her own, wide open, bucking your hips into the air as you let out frustrated grunts, eyes sealed shut in concentration. She just watched. She loved watching you touch yourself. Abby felt like the luckiest girl in the world getting to watch you, kiss you, feel you. She wanted to feel more of you, every atom in your body she’d kiss if you’d allow it.

“Let me help” she said, eyes trained on your open mouth.

Your brain was too fuzzy to even comprehend the depth of the act, so pent up and eager.

“Mhmm,” was all you could muster up. As her calloused fingers transferred from her skin to your abdomen, your body jolted up. You had never been touched by another. Not like this. She took her time running the tips of her fingers from your side to the mound, taking your hand and moving it your thigh so she could replace it with her own.

Something deep in your belly erupted when you felt her fingers meet your clit. A flock of doves released from their cage, a gasping goldfish meeting water. An exaggerated sigh of relief came out as a depraved moan. Every nerve in your body heightened by her gentle touch.

She drew cautious and attentive swipes across the newly swollen bud, watching for when your breath would hitch.

“You’re so warm,” she said studying your face as it contorted in pleasure. Your chin raised high, burying your scalp into the frilly pillows below. She had then studied the flesh around your neck, oh why had she never noticed that. How thin the skin was there, how close she could get to you in that space.

“I-it feels b-better when you do it,” you admit to her, water in her hands, hips grinding into the soft touch of her. “Y-yeah really?” She says, perking up, so pleased with knowing she could make you feel better. She’d do anything to make you feel better.

You let your stagnant hand run down her chiseled chest to meet her mound, her sticky slit pooling at her core. You meant to return the favor, an eye for an eye. “It’s okay- just let me help you.”

You shook your head in agreement, but let your hand rest on the pulsing flesh, you wanted to feel her like she felt you.

With every gentle circle she took you closer to release. It was so much faster when she did it. When you did it together before you would lie there for hours flicking at the raw skin to no avail, but in minutes she had you tipping at your edge.

Her strokes felt akin to the ones on your notebook, gentle and cautious direction, seeking a desirable outcome. You’d thought to picture this, able to recreate this on paper shielded from her eyes. What would she think if she saw them? Maybe you’d grown too fond of the other half of your heart.

“Abby!” You scream out, nearing your pending release.

“Y-yeah? D-does it feel okay- are you okay?” She perks up in concern, helplessly worried she had hurt you.

“Yes- Yes! It- it’s coming,” you pant out, body slick with sweat as your arousal pools below you. A sloppy mess of bodies interlaced with remorseless pleasure.

“Let me feel them, I want to feel them,” abby says inches from your face, intently watching the contortions of your face below her. The butterflies, oh how she wished she could flutter in your tummy as they do so effortlessly.

You cave shamelessly, pressing into the soft pink flesh. You try to keep them stable, but as you reach the cliffs edge you can’t help but moan pathetically into her throat. Your hips thrust into the calloused fingers, chasing the lasting feelings of her, escaping your doom and passing the burden through your lips onto hers.

You did draw of this, and every time after that. It became an obsession, mental images snapshotted to accuracy for replication later.

The routine increased in frequency and intensity. Exploring each other’s most sacred places. She would let you touch her sometimes, but only when she was touching you. Abby seemed more interested in your pleasure than her own. But she cared about you, she never wanted you unsettled. She wanted to be your salvation.

“I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie. But we don’t have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting. I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.”

“Does she make you feel them?”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

Ellie Williams was so…vulgar, erratic, a ticking time bomb. The pieces of the puzzle connected at last when you lied eyes on the auburn haired girl.

She had entered the WLF as gentle as a bomb to a building. Fiery hot attitude, a chip on her shoulder, and drowning green eyes. At first glance she utterly captivated your ever fleeting thoughts.

When she first walked through the corridors of the stadium your eyes fixed on her, staring rudely at her every move. “Who is that, the girl?” You ask the unfazed blonde next to you, too busy working at sharpening a blade, “names Ellie, they say she’s trouble. By the looks of her, checks out.”

“What did she do? Why is she here?” You continue your glare, taking note of the pink scare rippled along the crest of her eye.

You had never drawn anyone other than abby, but the girls features were so strong, the strokes would come naturally in your grasp. A secret muse possibly, even from a far.

“I don’t know- stay away from her. She reeks of trouble,” she’d remark, finishing off the blade and leading you off to a pending mission.

You tried, you really did. She was so compelling, and you? You were a bee to honey. Was she soft unlike her features? Did she speak of the world beyond her? Did she like to watch the clouds mesh into unlikely objects? Did she know of the butterflies and their ever present existence in your lungs?

Your notebook grew of only her, the short frayed hair, the pink scare, the freckles that littered her face. So effortlessly magnificent she was, unknowingly your own secret work of art.

Until abby found them.

Related to this work

Song lyrics: casual , waiting room , cool about it

Moodboard

If you enjoy the childhood best friend trope with abby highly recommend this fic by @kieranscaren she writes beautifully and gave me great inspiration for this work:)

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody

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