#i’ve accepted that we want different things and that we can’t be together because of it

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.

#bkdk #bakudeku #mha 424 #meta #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #I swear to god I will fight everyone #my heart is dying at the LACK OF APPRECIATION FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE #some of us need to learn how to love Izuku the way Kacchan loves Izuku

[chandralia]

Toga saying she loves both boys and girls explicitly, that she loves differently, was ridiculed/abused for FOR loving differently, saying she wanted to be like people around her instead. Twice suggesting her villain name be Carmilla? (THE FIRST LESBIAN VAMPIRE)

Ochako calling herself strange for wanting to save Toga, reaching out and leveling, speaking in a way only Toga can understand, telling her she’s the cutest girl in the whole world, and offering to give Toga her blood for the rest of her life??

Deku saying “I’ve spent my life chasing after you,”“you’re my image of victory,” that he “can’t imagine a world in which kacchan doesn’t exist,” “kacchan and everyone else” over and over again, LOSING HIS MIND WHEN ONLY KATSUKI’S INJURED, being told to control his heart three times (COUNT THEM: THREE) over Katsuki?? Kudou having to use Katsuki to motivate Deku? “their feelings become one” just from locking eyes…???? Deku’s world shifting when Katsuki’s alive again, looking at him in awe (the way he’s only ever looked at him).

Katsuki risking his life for Deku repeatedly, thinking of only him before death, having to imagine Deku in danger to further his quirk, being targeted because he’s the closest to Deku (VERBALLY STATED BY SHIGAFO), avoiding medical care at every turn to get to Deku, always reminiscing about their past, A MISSED HANDHOLD, imagining their future together and breaking down crying in front of Deku at the possibility of that being ripped from him, saying he wanted them to keep doing this forever?

“that’s just how shonen is, everyone’s gay but no one’s canon” SHUT UP PLEASE. we quite literally do not know what Hori is or isn’t allowed to do. He’s been vocal about fighting for what he wants in his story, and even if it is an executive or editor saying “no you can’t do this” look what he’s managed to do so far.

not to mention THREE canon trans characters, toga correcting overhaul at misgendering. kendo saying “I just want to be me” when talking about gender, the entire side plot with discrimination and people fighting for acceptance, Hori reading and approving all the stuff that happens in the light novels/team up missions, AND thanking/praising those authors for knowing his characters so well.

His assistant (nstime23) openly shipping bkdk, drawing fanart of them, blatantly using their ship name, WHILE STILL BEING MUTUALS WITH HORI.

and the reception???

Hori does not live under a rock. It’s not an “oopsie he made it gay on accident” thing, and it’s not done maliciously either.

sharing what I’ve said before because I’m tired:

#I haven’t ranted like this in a while but YEAH #queer-coding is NOT queerbaiting. #a lot of these aren’t even coding they just ARE queer lol #bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #:’) #ktdk #togachako

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

[sluttywoozi]

Fine Line | jwy x reader

Summary: There’s a certain rivalry that exists between the two hottest people on campus. You’d think having such a thing in common would foster a bond, but from the first day you met, you feared you and Wooyoung could be nothing but enemies. 

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.7k | Genre: college au, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: drinking mention, dom!wooyoung, brat!reader, mouth covering, hand behind back, petnames (princess, baby), fingering, praise kink, closet sex, semi public sex, possessive wooyoung

There’s a certain rivalry that exists between the two hottest people on campus. You’d think having such a thing in common would foster a bond, but from the first day you met, you feared you and Wooyoung could be nothing but enemies. 

The tension was instant. You met once at a party and there was a moment of like recognizing like before he turned his nose up at you and dragged someone else into the conversation. Every time you’ve met him since has been like that - eyes meeting, a flash of connection, and a suddenly uninterested Wooyoung doing anything he can to avoid talking to you. 

It’s not the type of treatment you’re used to, and it’s definitely not what you prefer, but you can’t say it doesn’t present the slightest bit of a challenge. You want Wooyoung to like you, want him to talk to you and laugh with you and cling to you like he does all his friends, and perhaps, secretly, you want to do things friends don’t do, too. 

So you stay persistent, keep going up to him at parties to say hello, keep your eyes and your heart open as he observes you, and keep your hurt feelings to yourself when he yet again deems you unworthy. 

Until San’s party, that is. Wooyoung and San have such a bond it seems no one can get in between, but tonight, that’s exactly what you’re going to do, because if San accepts you, then Wooyoung will have no choice but to do the same. 

It’s easy enough once you find your in. San can talk Overwatch scores for hours and you just so happen to play, and in no time, he’s clutching onto your shoulder and laughing himself breathless at your recount of your most recent loss. You can feel Wooyoung watching you, feel his eyes as they dart back and forth between you and San, feel his ire as San hands you his phone, asking you to put your number and username in so you can play together sometime. 

Before you can hand it back, it’s being snatched out of your hands by a glaring Wooyoung, except to your surprise, the glare isn’t directed at you. It’s pointed towards San, who, instead of looking nervous or scared like many others would be, is smiling a secret, satisfied grin as he watches Wooyoung delete your contact. 

Wow. You knew Wooyoung didn’t like you, but to get upset with his best friend just for talking to you? You have to admit, that hurts. But beneath the pain lies anger, indignation, offense, and those are the feelings you latch onto. 

“Okay, Wooyoung. Message received. You don’t want to be friends and you don’t want to share either, so I’ll just find different parties to go to. You won’t have to see me again.”

You wish your voice wasn’t shaking but at least your fingers aren’t as you plant your cup in San’s still open hand and spin on your heel, ignoring greetings and calls of your name as you make a beeline for the door. 

You’re only a few feet away when a hand catches yours and tugs you into the hall closet. Even in the dark, you know it’s him, know it’s Wooyoung, and being in such close proximity with him has your head spinning. 

“We need to talk,” he starts, but you don’t really feel like listening. 

“Do we? You’ve never had anything to say to me before,” you sass back, shivering at the way his hand tightens around yours. 

You can practically hear him rolling his eyes, his consternation palpable as he backs you into the coat rack, hangers clacking against each other at the impact. 

“I’ve always had plenty to say to you, princess, I just didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

The condescension in that single word shouldn’t make magma pool in your belly but it does, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. 

“Oh, now you’re quiet? Good. It’s my turn to talk,” his voice is hard, heated, unlike you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re right that I don’t want to share, but it’s not that I don’t want to share San, it’s that I don’t want to share you.” 

“Share me? I don’t belong to anyone so there’s nothing to share.”

“That’s the problem,” he hisses through gritted teeth as he takes a step closer, his toned chest brushing against yours. 

You’ve never been this close to him before and it has your heart racing, the scent of his cologne filling your senses and clouding your thoughts. You bring your other hand up to rest on his shoulder as your knees grow weak, your fingertips digging into the lean muscle when he takes hold of your hip with his free hand. 

You feel him leaning in closer and closer in the black of the closet, know his mouth is just centimeters from yours, know that if he asked, you’d-

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His lips meet yours urgently, no softness to be found as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and nips at it, his tongue soothing the sting before he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you, his other hand still holding yours tight. 

You make a sound into his mouth when he untangles it but quiet down when he brings it up to your cheek, his hand tilting your face so he can kiss you at a better angle and his tongue delving into your mouth when you open up for him. He kisses you with his whole body, his shoulders curving into you and his hips bumping against yours as he crowds even closer to you. 

He breaks away to whisper into your mouth, “Can I-” “Yes,” you sigh, before you even know what he’s asking. You’d let him have anything from you at this point, would do anything, be anything, for him, because all you’ve ever wanted was his attention, his shine, on you. Now that you have it, you won’t give it up. 

You can’t help but hope he won’t give you up either as his hand glides up your thigh and unbuttons your jeans, his fingers sliding into your underwear with shocking ease. He doesn’t mess around, immediately gathering arousal from your entrance to rub into your clit, his lips finding yours just as you let out a moan. 

Your whole lower half throbs, your jeans feeling so constrictive you wish you could just strip them off, though you do appreciate the extra pressure they put on his hand, his touch feeling that much more intense because of them. 

Before long, you’re yearning for something inside, your core aching with emptiness as he rubs sloppy circles around your clit. “I want-”

“Hush. You don’t get to ask for things right now.”

“Why?” You whine, dragging out the end of the word and grasping his wrist with one hand. He unwraps his arm from you and pulls your hand off, bringing it behind your back and whispering, ��Because I’m already giving you what you want, aren’t I? 

You squirm at being called out, but you can’t deny it. 

“That’s what I thought.”

He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to cover your mouth as he sinks two slender fingers inside you to the knuckle and curves them toward your abdomen, finding your g-spot so fast, you realize suddenly that he will make you cum in this hall closet. 

You don’t know if you need permission but you’re certainly not going to ask, not with one of his hands over your mouth and the other in your pants. Not when you can hear the way he’s panting, not when he’s mumbling to you, or maybe even to himself, “Fucking tight,” and, “So wet, shit,” and, “Perfect pussy, baby.” 

The praise makes you preen, your body melting into him and your lips curving into a blissful smile beneath his hand as your walls flutter around his fingers, your high approaching you much faster than expected. 

He knows it, somehow, and tears his hand off your smiling mouth to press his own grin to yours in a kiss, his satisfaction and pride tangible as he fills you with his fingers again and again, the slick sound of his movements making your cheeks heat. 

When his thumb swivels to find your clit and he murmurs, “Cum for me,” you feel the wave of pleasure drag you under, your cunt locking down around his fingers as he grinds them into your g-spot. You whimper weakly into his mouth, the sound barely audible over the noise of the party filtering in through the door, and he answers with his teeth digging into your bottom lip again, this time in reprimand. 

If you didn’t know every single person outside of this closet, you would moan even louder out of pure spite. Instead, you sigh against his lips as he pulls his fingers out of you and turns his head to the side, the sound of him sucking his fingers clean making you clench. 

When he’s done, he wipes his fingers off on his shirt and rebuttons your jeans, letting one hand rest on your hip and the other find yours. 

“Let me drive you home? I haven’t had anything to drink,” he whispers, kissing you to prove himself. All you can taste is you, so with a nod and a quiet, “Sure,” you agree. 

“And… let me take you out on a date?” He sounds nervous, his voice wavering just slightly and his fingers twitching in yours. 

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you can hear the smile in your voice, feel it in your cheeks, in the stretch of your lips. 

He exhales a relieved breath and pulls you to the door, leaning in for one last kiss before opening the door, peeking his head out, and tugging you into the hallway. It seems San, the precious angel, has guided everyone outside so you can exit in peace, and as you make your getaway, you vow to actually add him in Overwatch. 

You’re sure asking Wooyoung for his gamertag will lead to a most exciting (and possessive) reaction, and you can only hope he’s willing to give you what you want yet again.  

posted first on my patreon

my masterlist

#wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop smut

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

When will you post the y/n Meeks Martin x Ethan Landry post 😭

Right fucking now lmao.

This is my first post in a while, take it easy on me 💕

Secrets - Ethan Landry x Fem!Meeks-Martin!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Growing up with overprotective siblings has made it difficult for you to find someone to be with, until you meet your brother's nerdy best friend.

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Some violence-ish, Oral - f receiving, riding, p in v, teasing. (If I missed something, let me know:)

A/N: If any of yall are familiar with Spongebob, I have the fucking suds and I'll be writing a lot the next few days lmao

Your brother and sister were so protective of you. After some of the things they’d been through, you couldn’t really blame them, and you were thankful that they were always looking out for you. The only downside? They seemed to hate every person that asked you out or showed interest in you. You were sure that you would be single forever if it was up to them, because they didn’t think anyone was good enough for you.

Once they went away to New York for school, you missed them, but with there only being a one-year age difference, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long before you’d be heading to Blackmore. You took the opportunity to finally put yourself out there and go on dates without the twins interfering, and you were starting to realize how right they were when they told you that the guys in Woodsboro weren’t really worth your time.

When you FaceTimed Chad to let him know that you got accepted into the same university as him and Mindy, he was beaming at the news. He was going on and on about all the things he loved about New York, and wouldn’t shut up about the pizza, but you tuned out everything he was saying once you noticed his roommate in the background. His hot roommate.

“Dude, my sister got in!” Chad yelled, as you rolled your eyes. He seemed more excited than you were about the whole situation. “Ethan, come say hi.”

“Fine,” he huffed, as Chad passed him his phone. He paused for a second once he saw you, but quickly pulled it together. It was awkward enough to meet someone for the first time on a phone screen, and he didn’t want to make it any weirder. “Hey, I’m Ethan.”

“Ah, the dorky roommate,” you said, as Ethan looked away from you to glare at Chad.

“Is that how you tell people about me? You say that I’m dorky?”

“If the shoe fits…” Chad trailed off before he tried to take his phone back from Ethan.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, passing the phone back to your brother.

“Have you told Mindy yet?” Chad questioned, a smirk on his face as he waited for your answer.

“No…”

“I knew I was your favorite!”

Once Chad and Mindy came home for summer break, they wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to take you back to New York with them. They were heading back early to help Chad move into his own apartment with Ethan, and Mindy was moving into the spare bedroom at Tara’s with Anika. They decided that you needed to come with them, even though you wouldn’t be able to move into your dorm for a couple weeks.

“I’m not thrilled about couch surfing,” you said, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“I’d sleep on the couch. You could sleep in my bed.”

“So, she’s staying with you for two weeks? I thought she’d stay at Tara’s,” Mindy said, “What happens when you want to stay over with Tara and she’s left alone with Ethan?”

“Oh, please. Ethan won’t try anything,” Chad said, as Mindy scoffed. “What?”

“What makes you think Ethan wouldn’t try something?”

“Because he’s my boy. He knows she’s off limits…I already told him,” Chad said, as you sighed in frustration.

“You know what? I’m not doing this whole ‘You can’t date so and so’ shit that I’ve dealt with for years,” you said, as Mindy cocked her eyebrow at you.

“You’re staying at Tara’s,” she said, “You’ve gotten a little feisty lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tried to get with Ethan just because we said you can’t.”

“No, I’m staying with Chad. It’ll be fine. Ethan doesn’t seem like the type to try anything,” you said, as she had a confused look on her face.

“When have you talked to Ethan?”

“Oh, that was when she called me first to let me know she got into Blackmore,” Chad smirked, as Mindy snapped her head in his direction.

“No, she called me first.”

They turned to look at you, “Who did you call first?” they both asked at the same time, as you shrugged.

“I’ll never tell.”

When you made it to New York, you were exhausted. You couldn’t sleep on the five-hour flight, and the jet lag was really starting to get to you as you went to the baggage claim area to get your stuff.

“When’s your furniture getting delivered?” Mindy asked, as Chad checked his phone.

“Soon. Ethan’s here somewhere,” Chad said, glancing around for his friend that was taking you back to your new home for the next two weeks.

“I think that’s him,” you said, pointing to the guy with the huge sign that said ‘Meeks-Martin’. “Is he always that lame?”

“Yeah, poor dude can’t get a girlfriend to save his life because he’s that cheesy,” Chad said, as he walked over and took the sign from him. “We’re just going to put this in the trash.”

“Hey, it took me two minutes to make that,” Ethan said, as he glanced over to you. He noticed you struggling with your luggage and carryon. “Can I help you with that?”

“I got it,” Mindy said, grabbing the large suitcase from you. She stared Ethan down for a second before she walked past him.

“How do you deal with them?” Ethan asked, as you sleepily smiled at him.

“They’re not that bad.”

As Ethan drove, Mindy was in the backseat arguing with Chad as he sat in the passenger seat about how you staying at Tara’s would be best. You sighed as they bickered, before you noticed that Ethan kept glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror. You thought he was even more attractive in person and thought about how hard the next couple weeks could potentially be with him living in the same apartment as you.

“Seriously, how are you going to feel when those losers leave the toilet seat up all the time?” Mindy questioned, as Chad scoffed.

“I think we’re housebroken,” Ethan spoke up for the first time in the drive as he glanced back at Mindy. He quickly looked away once he noticed her glaring at him.

“Listen, Landry. I know I won’t be able to convince her, so I want to make it perfectly clear that if you touch my sister, I will kill you.”

“What makes you guys think that I’m like that?” Ethan asked, the annoyance in his tone obvious.

“They think anyone’s like that when it comes to me,” you said, smiling at him as his eyes met yours in the mirror again.

You made it to Chad and Ethan’s apartment seconds after the furniture delivery truck pulled in. Once they opened the back of the truck, Mindy’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe mom paid for all this stuff,” she said, as Chad sighed.

“She didn’t. Ethan and I took out loans.”

“Maybe you should’ve asked mom. She paid for all my bedroom stuff,” Mindy shrugged, as Chad sighed.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

After the stuff for the apartment was scattered in various areas of the house, Mindy got the text that Anika was at Tara’s, and was wondering when she’d be over.

“You staying here, or coming with me?” Mindy asked but cut you off before you could even respond. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, she can hang out here if she wants to. We’re all going out for pizza later tonight, anyway,” Chad said, as Mindy rolled her eyes.

“Are you two going to argue like this until I move into my dorm?” you questioned, as the twins exchanged their glances.

“Probably.”

“I’ll hang out here,” you said, as Mindy nodded.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Later that evening after you’d helped the two boys set up their new apartment, you were starting to get hungry. Chad wanted to keep working, and you eventually flopped onto the couch, sighing in defeat.

“I’m starving,” you whined, as Ethan walked into the living room and sat down on the free cushion beside where your feet were resting.

“Me too,” Ethan said, matching your whining as Chad glared at the two of you. “What? It’s been a long day. We skipped lunch.”

“We’ll leave soon,” Chad said, as you got an idea in your head.

“Orrr you could meet us there,” you suggested. “You know how I get if I don’t eat.”

“True,” Chad sighed, “Ethan, make sure nothing happens to her.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.”

As you walked beside Ethan, he started to make small talk. By the time you made it to the restaurant, you were in a full-blown conversation about all the interests you both had, and he was proud of himself that he didn’t get nervous when he talked to you. You scanned the restaurant for your sister and Tara, but once you noticed they weren’t there yet, you and Ethan sat at one of the tables.

“Do you want to eat now, or wait?” he asked, looking at you from across the table.

“We can eat now, I’m so hungry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

While you and Ethan ate the pizza that Chad hyped up so much, you were surprised at how good it was. You kept talking to Ethan, but you soon realized how much time had passed, and no one else had showed up to the restaurant.

“Where do you think they are?” you asked, as Ethan sighed.

“Okay, don’t hate me,” he said, as you curiously stared at him. “I kind of wanted to get to know you without your brother and sister making it seem like I was trying to get into your pants.”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “But if they aren’t here, where are they?”

“They probably went to the one on campus.”

“Did you trick me into going to dinner with you?” you joked, as he started to blush.

“I’ll be honest, I thought they would’ve come to hunt you down by now.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Chad, Mindy, Tara, and who you assumed to be Anika walked in. Chad sighed in relief once he saw you, but Mindy just looked pissed.

“You know how many pizzerias we stopped at to look for you?” she questioned before she looked at Ethan. “Why did you bring her to this one?”

“Simple mistake,” he shrugged, as Mindy stared him down.

“Simple mistake, my ass. I told you Ethan would try something with her.”

“It’s just pizza!” you snapped, “Last time I checked, we weren’t fucking.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped at your words as the waitress brought the check to the table. Ethan took it from her, his mouth still hanging open as he looked at you.

“You want to split it?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“I got it.”

“We’re going back to Tara’s,” Chad said, as you stood up from the table to hug her.

“Hey,” you said, before you turned to Anika. “It’s nice to meet you. Mindy wouldn’t shut up about you all summer.”

“Aww, babe,” she said, pulling Mindy into a side hug.

“Look, as much as I’d love to hang out with you guys, I’m exhausted,” you said, yawning as Chad sighed.

“I really wanted to hang out with Tara.”

“I’ll walk her home,” Ethan suggested, as Mindy, once again, glared at him. “I can drop her off and go to Tara’s after.”

“No, I don’t want her left alone in an area that she doesn’t know,” Chad said, as you rolled your eyes.

“I can stay there with her, then. Seriously, I won’t try anything,” Ethan said, putting his hands up in defeat as Chad nodded.

“I know you won’t, dude. Thanks.”

As you and Ethan made your way out of the restaurant, you heard Mindy scold Chad for being so trusting. But Chad felt like he had no reason to think Ethan would do anything to betray his trust.

Once you got back to the apartment, you were tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. Ethan was about to head to his room before you stopped him.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I thought you were exhausted?” he asked, as he turned around and made his way towards you.

“I just didn’t feel like going with them and being there all night,” you sighed, as he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Why are you sitting over there?”

“Because if Chad comes home and sees me sitting beside you, I’m sure I’ll be moving out of here into an unmarked grave,” he said, half-joking as you rolled your eyes.

“Please. If it was Mindy, yeah. But Chad, I don’t think so.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, scooting closer to you as he turned on the tv. “You cool with something scary?”

“Mindy’s my sister, what do you think?”

“Scary it is.”

Ethan thought that after sitting through some of the goriest movies ever with the Twins, there was no way that you’d be freaking out over some jump scares. But once you were practically in his lap, your face hiding behind your hands as the scene played out on the screen, he started to laugh to himself.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him. That’s when you realized that you were practically on top of him and went to move, but his arm wrapped around you to hold you in place.

“Your brother and sister don’t get phased by this shit,” he said, smiling down at you. He started to glance between your eyes and your lips, and he was so close to making a move, when a loud shriek on the screen pulled your attention away from him.

“This is one of the few I haven’t seen,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so jumpy if you picked something I had seen before.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Ethan chuckled, as you turned your head to look at him again.

“If you want to kiss me, you should probably do it soon. The movie’s almost over,” you said, as he smiled and leaned down.

When his lips touched yours, you felt something different than what you’d usually feel when you’d kiss someone. You immediately felt the chemistry, and with the way his lips were quickly moving with yours, you were sure that he felt it, too.

Once he pulled away to catch his breath, he had a sweet smile on his lips. He definitely didn’t expect to kiss his best friend’s sister, but he was happy that you were bold enough to tell him it was okay. Another thing he didn’t expect was for you to adjust yourself so you were straddling him, as his eyes looked into yours. His hands moved to rest on your thighs as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was way more intense. Your hands were in his hair as his hands rested on the curve of your ass to keep you as close as he could.

The second the kiss got deeper, you heard the sound of a key going into the front door.

“Shit,” you said, pulling away and jumping off the couch.

“Wait,” Ethan said, as he followed you. He pulled you in for one more quick kiss before you rushed into Chad’s room and shut the door.

When Ethan walked back out, Chad had just made it to the living room.

“Where were you?” Chad questioned, as Ethan glared at him.

“My room is beside yours. I wasn’t trying anything with your sleeping sister,” Ethan scoffed, as Chad nodded.

“Sorry, dude. I had to listen to Mindy talk about how much she hated the idea of the two of you being here alone.”

“It’s cool, just don’t accuse me of shit you know I wouldn’t do.”

Ethan felt a little guilty for lying to Chad, but you were the first girl that he’d actually felt something for in a long time. After days of stealing quick kisses and steamy make-out sessions whenever Chad was in the shower, the sexual frustration was starting to build. Ethan knew that he wasn’t going to initiate it, because the last thing he wanted was for you to think that was the reason he was spending time with you. Plus, you hadn’t been left alone long enough since the first night.

“So, I think Tara and I are going to a movie tonight. You guys want to come?” Chad asked, as Ethan looked over to you as you sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch a movie,” you said, as Chad cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You don’t want to watch a movie?” he questioned, as you shook your head. “What about you, Ethan?”

“Dude, spend time with your girlfriend. I’m sure she doesn’t want a third wheel tagging along.”

“Mindy and Anika are going, too. You wouldn’t be a third wheel,” Chad said, as Ethan chuckled.

“Your right, I’d be a fifth wheel. You guys have fun. I’ll probably just play video games all night anyway.”

“Okay, I should be back around eleven,” Chad said, as he made his way towards the apartment door.

As soon as he left, Ethan was on you, literally. You moved so you were laying back as he hovered over you, his mouth moving with yours as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hey, do you want to go to your room?” you asked once he pulled away to breathe.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Within seconds, his feet met the floor, and his hands reached for yours to pull you up. He led you down the hallway to his room, before his lips connected with yours again. He backed you towards the bed, a small squeal slipping past your lips against his as your back hit the comforter. Your legs wrapped around him again, holding him as close to you as you could. One of his hands was running up your side over your shirt, until the material started to ride up. He gave you goosebumps as his fingers moved over the newly exposed flesh, before he pulled away to look at you.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, “Because if you just want to make out, that’s fine. There’s no pressure, and I don’t want you to think that I just want sex.”

”I know you don’t,” you said, smiling at him. “But if the sexual tension get’s any stronger between us and we don’t do something about it, I might actually explode.”

“So, you want sex,” he said, trying his best to not freak out.

“Yeah,” you said, as he leaned back down.

It didn’t take long for his hips to start moving, the hard cock in his sweatpants brushing against you. You gasped into the kiss every time your clit got the smallest amount of friction, before his hand moved in between your bodies so he could rub you over the shorts you were wearing.

“Fuck,” you mumbled against his lips. “You can take those off me, if you want.”

He quickly slid them down your hips before his hand went back in between your legs, rubbing across your soaked panties.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “Does kissing me do this to you?”

“Yes,” you said, as his lips moved to your neck.

Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as he slid your panties to the side, his finger rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“We’re here alone, baby. Don’t hold those pretty sounds in.”

Soft whimpers were slipping past your lips as his finger moved faster against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy was already drenched, and you felt yourself getting more wet by the second. You whined in protest once he pulled away, but he quickly shut you up, a low moan falling out of your mouth when he easily slid two of his fingers inside you as he moved down the bed.

Your hands tangled in his hair the second his tongue touched your clit, his fingers hitting that special spot inside you. Your hips were involuntarily arching off the bed at the feeling as he struggled to keep you pinned down.

“So good,” you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth. “Fuck.”

Once he started to hum with your clit in his mouth, you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. Your moans kept getting higher and louder, and he made the mental note that he really couldn’t sneak around with you like this if Chad happened to be home, because you were just so loud. He loved it, though. All the noised you were making went straight to his throbbing cock as he brought you closer to the edge. Once your pussy started to squeeze his fingers, he sucked harder on your clit, the feeling throwing you into an intense orgasm. He groaned as your shaky hands tugged on his hair, his fingers slowing as he got you through it.

Once you started to relax, he sat up to look at you as he slowly slid his fingers out. Your cheeks were rosy, your chest was heaving, and you were still a little shaky. He loved that he had that effect on you and couldn’t wait to actually be inside of you.

“Let me help you with your shirt,” he said, as you sat up and looked at him, your eyes still hazy.

“That felt so good,” you finally said, as he chuckled.

“I hope so with how hard you were pulling my hair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly as he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry, I loved it.”

Once he got you out of your shirt and bra, and he slid his sweatpants down his hips, he walked over to the bedside table to grab a condom.

“You still want to do this, right?” he asked, as you smiled at him.

“Yeah.”

He slid his boxers down his thighs before he rolled the condom on and lined up with your soaked pussy. He took his time as he inched his way inside of you, a loud moan falling past your lips once he was all the way in.

“So fucking tight,” he rushed out, before he started with slow thrusts. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts as he started to go faster.

You knew you were wet, but you could hear how wet you actually were as his cock slid in and out of your pussy. His eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to miss any of the faces you were making.

“Can I be on top?” you asked, as he smirked at you.

“Yeah, babe,” he said, as he pulled out and laid down.

You got up and moved to straddle him, the whimpers flooding out of your mouth as you sank down onto him.

Ethan felt like he was in heaven as his hands held onto your hips. He had the perfect view of your face, your tits, and he could even see his cock sliding in and out of you. Your hands moved to rest against his chest so you could stabilize yourself as you rolled your hips, the tip of his cock giving your g-spot the attention it needed.

“Come here,” he said, as you leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his. You felt his hands snake around you to hold you close before his hips started to move, his cock thrusting in and out of you so quick that you couldn’t think straight. He was letting out soft grunts that could barely be heard over your moans. You were both getting sweaty as you clung to him, his pace not letting up as you felt yourself start to get close.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whined, as you felt that white-hot feeling spreading across your body, your hands gripping him as he just kept fucking up into you.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but he went even faster. You were a moaning mess as he kept slamming his cock into you, before his thrusts got erratic.

“Cumming,” he groaned, as you slowly moved back to meet his thrusts as he got himself through it. “Fuck, that was…fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his chest.

He slid out of you but held you close for a few minutes, his hands rubbing over your back as you both caught your breath.

That’s when you heard other voices inside the apartment. You shot up, your eyes looking down to meet Ethan’s panicked ones.

“Where are they?” Mindy asked, the annoyance in her tone obvious as you and Ethan jumped up to grab your clothes off the floor.

Ethan quickly took the condom off and slid his boxers on as you tried to put your clothes back on. It was too late, though, once his bedroom door eased open.

“Hey, dude,” Chad said, before closing the door once he noticed Ethan was just in his boxers. “Shit, sorry.”

Chad was embarrassed as he turned to look at Mindy before he realized something. Your shorts were on Ethan’s bedroom floor.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Chad’s voice boomed once he opened the door. This time he was able to see you, but you’d just slid your shorts back up over your hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He walked over to Ethan and grabbed him by the shirt he was able to put on in those few seconds, and you could see the fear in Ethan’s eyes as he looked over to you.

“Don’t fucking look at her!” Chad yelled, as Mindy finally walked into the room.

“Told you her staying here was a mistake,” she said, as Chad got angrier by the second.

“I didn’t think that my best friend couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Stop, seriously. You guys are making this more than it needs to be,” you said, as Chad looked over to you. “Calm down, Chad. He’s your best friend.”

“Last time I checked, friends don’t sleep with their friend’s sister!” he yelled, before he looked back at Ethan. “I can’t fucking believe you did this.”

“Why are you acting like I had no part in this?” you asked, as Mindy scoffed.

“Yeah, right. I’m sure Ethan charmed you out of your panties just to get what he wanted.”

“That’s not true!” Ethan snapped, his fear of Chad kicking his ass turning to anger as his friend finally let go of his shirt. “I really like her. This has nothing to do with me just wanting to sleep with her.”

“She’s my baby sister, Ethan!”

“Stop calling me that,” you sighed in frustration. “I’m a year younger than you. I’m a legal adult. Nothing Ethan and I did is wrong aside from you two saying that he needed to keep his distance from me.”

“He obviously doesn’t listen,” Mindy said, as you felt yourself start to get mad.

“You know what really fucking sucks? You two are my best friends, but you won’t let me live. You won’t let me experience things. You know Ethan’s not a bad person…you know how bad I’ve wanted to hang out with him and get to know him better, but you guys won’t let that happen.” you ranted, “I like him, too. And if I want to be with him, you aren’t going to tell me that I can’t! You better not threaten him anymore, either. I’m sick of this childish shit.”

Your sibling stared at you as Chad nodded in understanding. He had no problem intimidating any of the boys that’d shown interest in you, but out of the two of them, he was the one that seemed to be the one that got you.

“I do really like her. I don’t want us to have to sneak around, but I’ll keep doing it, if I have to,” Ethan said, smiling at you. “She’s amazing. It’d be stupid of me to not want a chance with her.”

“Do we have to sneak around? Or can you guys be cool about it?” you asked, as Chad sighed.

“I’m cool with it. Just…no hooking up when I’m here.”

“You’re okay with this?” Mindy scoffed, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“Ethan’s not a bad person. If he really likes her, what’s the big deal?”

“And that’s why he’s my favorite,” you said, brushing past them to head to the bathroom.

“Told you,” Chad said, teasingly pointing at Mindy before she smacked his hand away. “Ow!”

“Ethan, you better not hurt her,” Mindy scolded, as he nodded.

“I won’t…but can you guys get out while I put my pants back on?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[jjkamochoso]

Braids and Mochi Escapades

Fluff

Obanai x female reader

Mitsuri braids reader’s hair, Obanai can’t handle the cuteness!

Warnings: none

Being a hashira, your life involved seeing lots of blood, guts, and other horrible things. It didn’t consist of much light and happiness but that all changed one day when you seized the opportunity to work with another hashira and your whole perspective on life changed. You had never had so much fun than when you and Mitsuri slayed demons together. She was a formidable opponent and even taught you many skills you now utilized in your own missions. Not to mention, she was kind, funny, and naturally, very loving. These were traits you had embodied before your life darkened because of demons but Mitsuri showed you that you could still embrace and seek out good times even when all else seems hopeless. That’s how you found yourself having a sleepover with the Love Hashira after your semi annual hashira meeting was adjourned. The hashiras were all granted a few days’ rest before accepting any more missions so when Mitsuri invited you over for a girl’s night, you couldn’t say no (Shinobu did, though—she was always busy with some sort of research). You ordered as much sakura mochi the kitchen could begrudgingly make for you guys and made your way to Mitsuri’s room to hang out while the food was being prepared. You didn’t have the chance to announce yourself before her screen opened and the excitable girl wrapped you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking forward to this all day! Come in, come in!”

She dragged you inside and you let out a sigh of relief when her strong grip finally released you. Putting down your futon and extra blankets, you felt your stomach flutter with happiness. You hadn’t had a sleepover since you were very young and were relishing the fact you could have a normal few days without the stressors of being a hashira.

“I ordered us sakura mochi from the kitchens, I hope that’s alright,” you said, a bit shy. You knew it was her favorite but you didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Your worries were instantly quelled by the huge smile that graced her face as she pulled you in for another hug, thank you’s flowing out of her mouth nonstop. You giggled, already feeling content at how the night was going and you hadn’t been there for over a minute.

“So, is there anything in particular you want to do while we wait? I’m not well versed on sleepover activities yet, I apologize,” you said sheepishly.

Mitsuri just gave you a kind smile. “Don’t apologize! Tonight’s going to be so much fun! Ooh! I know! I can braid your hair!”

You instantly lit up. You were always envious of how pretty Mitsuri’s hair was and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t tried her signature hairstyle on yourself many times. However, you could never make it look as cute as she does so you were ecstatic that she would bestow her skills upon your head. She brought over a box of ribbons, all different colors of the rainbow, to tie at the ends of your hair as you released the pulled back style you had kept your strands in. When Mitsuri sat behind you and began to gently detangle your hair, you felt a wave of relaxation run through you. It felt nice to have someone so eager to take care of you for a change. You two basked in the comfortable silence until the talkative girl spoke up.

“So, y/n, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Your eyes that were previously closed opened up in a flash. Of course she would ask that, she’s the Love Hashira! But you were embarrassed that you had allowed yourself to succumb to such a weakness like love. Not even love, just unrequited affection toward a man that barely acknowledged you. It was humiliating to let her know of the truth of your heart but you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie to her.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever had the chance to lay eyes on but we’ve only spoken once out of all the years we’ve known each other. I watch him from afar but refuse to speak to him first out of fear. It’s shameful, I know.”

You were glad she couldn’t see your face as you spoke because you weren’t used to being this vulnerable. You were pleasantly surprised when she kept braiding, not skipping a beat.

“Oh, y/n, that’s so romantic! Pining and yearning are just two pillars of the many that make up love. It’s not shameful. Love is a complicated thing, especially for us, but if you face fear head on you’ll find that most things aren’t as scary as you think they might be. If you like him, he must have a good heart. Don’t be afraid to strike up conversation. He’ll come around eventually.”

You didn’t know how she did it but you instantly felt better. “You’re right, Mitsuri. Thank you.”

A few seconds passed.

“May I know who it is that’s captured your heart?”

You grimaced, knowing this would happen. “Um, I’m not sure I-”

“It’s probably Tengen, isn’t it? He’s so dreamy! If you’re into guys like that. Wait, you two have spoken many times so that doesn’t fit your description. Ugh, it isn’t Giyuu, is it?”

You tried your best not to laugh. Poor Giyuu, you didn’t know why no one liked him but even though you held a soft spot in your heart for him, it was the wrong man.

“No. Different raven haired man.”

She went quiet for a moment before gasping. “Obanai?”

You shook your head slightly in affirmation and she let out a high pitched squeal, inadvertently yanking on your finished braid in excitement. “Oh my gosh! You like Obanai? That’s so cute! You HAVE to talk to him, he’s such a sweetie!”

You grabbed onto your tender scalp in an attempt to soothe it after she almost ripped out all of your strands. “Now that the whole compound knows of my feelings,” you muttered, “I think my confidence to face him is completely shattered.”

Mitsuri gave you a pouty face. “No, don’t say that! You’re a beautiful girl and any man would be lucky to have you. He’s shy, you’re shy, it’s a tough combination but if you’ll allow me, I can tell him of your affections to see where it goes.”

“Oh, that’s alright, no need. If it’s meant to be, it will be. But thank you. And thank you for this gorgeous hair! Maybe this will give me the confidence boost I need to approach Obanai.” You gave the pink and green haired girl a hug and then inspected her work in a mirror. She had tied your (h/c) hair with ribbons, but they were mismatched colors. You were going to ask if she did that on accident before the realization of what the colors reminded you of set in. She had used one yellow ribbon and one turquoise ribbon, perfectly coordinating with Obanai’s eyes. Your mouth hung open in shock as Mitsuri giggled at your reaction.

“I hope you don’t mind! I was originally going to use just turquoise but when you mentioned your feelings for Obanai I thought this might be a way for you to feel closer to him. And it’s a great conversation starter.”

You gave her another huge hug, amazed at and grateful for her quick thinking. “Now that you’ve got me looking this good, we’re ready to get our food!”

Mitsuri clapped her hands in excitement and grabbed your arm as you two raced out the door of her room and into the warm summer night. The hot, sticky air permeated through your haori and left a slight sheen of sweat on your skin. You took a second to appreciate the quiet stillness of the compound, the smell of wisteria giving you comfort. You knew it was impossible for demons to be around, so why did it still feel like someone was watching you intently in secret? You shook it off, thinking you just weren't allowing yourself to let your guard down.

You laughed a little, turning to Mitsuri. "I'm not used to this relaxation time-"

She was gone. You would've been majorly freaked out if you hadn't spotted her entering a building beyond where you stood. Maybe her appetite turned ravenous and couldn't wait another second for food so she ran to the kitchen? You were confused and ready to catch up with her but your attention was turned to the rustling noise from above you. You stood under a wisteria tree and hanging over your braided head was a snake. Its white body slithered through the branches, staring at you and occasionally sticking its tongue out. You weren't familiar with snake behaviors but this one seemed friendly enough so you cautiously reached your hand toward it in an attempt to pet it. It didn't bite you when your fingers touched its smooth head so you took that as a good sign. You were extremely surprised, though, when it fell out of the branches, instead opting to rest on your shoulders. You tried to calm your breathing and before you could get too freaked out at your predicament, you almost facepalmed in realization that there was nothing to worry about. It was Kaburamaru, Obanai's snake friend, that had found his way to you. You were both looking at each other with curious eyes and you gave him a smile, trying to guess at what he was thinking.

"Mitsuri did my hair, Kaburamaru! That's why I look different. Though you probably recognized me by my scent from the other meetings you've attended, hmm?"

Being a snake, he obviously didn't answer you, but he did seem like he understood what you were saying, so you kept talking. "Are you hungry? We could try and find some frogs at the pond if you'd like."

He lifted his head and you could've sworn he shook it in disagreement.

"Alright then. Should we go find Obanai? It's a little late for you to be out here all by yourself."

"He's not by himself."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Obanai's voice from above you. You looked up and saw the bandaged face of your crush peering at you from some higher up branches, nearly in the same position you had found Kaburamaru.

"O-Obanai! I apologize for not greeting you. I hadn't noticed your presence." You bowed and hoped he would forgive you. He climbed out of the tree and landed at your feet, black hair moving effortlessly around him. Your mouth went dry and any words that could've been said had died in your throat the moment your eyes met his. He was even more beautiful at ground level when you could observe him up close. His eyes glistened in the full moon's light that blessed the Master's compound. The man of short stature had such a strong, powerful aura about him that almost made you dizzy, yet was so intoxicating that it drew you in. Neither of you shared any words for the next minute or so, unsure of what to say.

"Your hair's... different," muttered Obanai, taking in your appearance and then suddenly looking away.

"Mitsuri did it for me! I was telling Kaburamaru all about it. He seemed to notice as well," you said, the warmth of embarrassment creeping on your face as you registered that what you said suggested that you were conversing with a snake. If Obanai didn't think you were a weirdo before, he definitely did now.

"He's very perceptible," Obanai agreed, making you feel at ease about your previous panic. You two found yourselves in another awkward silence and you prayed to any god that would listen that Mitsuri would come back with your food soon.

"So what brings you out here this time of night?" you asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you despised small talk."

Your eyes opened the tiniest bit wider. How had he known that? You barely interacted with him in all the years you had worked together yet he was aware of that little fact about you. Had he been noticing you all this time and you were too ignorant to see it?

"I do." You took in a breath. Time to be brave, y/n. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About anything. Get to know you better." Now it was your turn to look away as you cringed at how that sounded. You wished you had gone to Tengen for flirting lessons before ever coming in contact with Obanai.

"Why?"

Your head turned back to face him again as you answered with a shrug. "Because you're interesting." And because you're ridiculously handsome and I'm hopelessly in love with you!

His eyes narrowed. "Interesting enough to mock me with your hair bows?" He pointed accusingly to your hair, the ends of your mismatched ribbons adorning Kaburamaru as he continuously slid over your body.

"What? No, you have the wrong idea! I swear, I'm not mocking you, I-" You didn't know how to respond and your time was running out before Obanai hated your guts. You resigned to telling him the truth; you'd rather be hated for that than for something that was blatantly false. "I told Mitsuri I found you handsome but was too shy to speak to you so she thought matching the ribbons to your eyes would be a way for me to feel closer to you." He had an unreadable look on his face and you wished you could melt into a puddle on the ground and evaporate away from this conversation. You reached your hands to your hair and began to undo the ribbons. "It was a bad idea, I'm sorry for-"

"N-no! Don't!" Obanai's hands shot out so fast you never saw them coming. He grasped your fingers, stopping them from their job of removing the ribbon. When you felt his cool skin on yours, goosebumps made their way across your entire being. "They look pretty. Y-you look... pretty." Was it a trick of the light or was Obanai... blushing? You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just call you pretty? You thought your night was going to be amazing just being at a sleepover with your friend and now your crush was practically holding your hand and calling you pretty. Obanai was about to remove his hand from yours when Kaburamaru quickly wrapped himself around your conjoined appendages, not allowing either of you to let go. The Serpent Hashira was left in a state of blushing and stuttering apologies for his friend's indecencies and you were certain the snake was laughing at you both.

As if summoned by pounding heartbeats and gauche attempts at confessing feelings, Mitsuri finally appeared, copious amounts of sakura mochi toppling out of the bags she held.

"Oh my gosh, you two are SO cute together! Did y/n finally tell you that she likes you?" She asked Obanai, mochi flying out of her mouth as she took another bite. As he was always someone who had a snarky comeback or venomous reply, you had never seen him unable to produce words like at this moment when he was floundering for the right thing to say.

"I, well... she, umm... What's it to you anyway?" He finally spit out, but Mitsuri just laughed.

"I'm the LOVE Hashira, silly, I'm the expert at this stuff. Although, I must admit, Kaburamaru did most of my heavy lifting, didn't you?" She beamed at him as he finally released you and Obanai from each other to receive a big helping of raw meat from the pink and green haired girl. You stared at her incredulously.

"You're telling me that you worked together with a snake to set us up?"

"Kaburamaru found me earlier today and brought me to Shinazugawa who told me that he was tired of Obanai dancing around his feelings for you, y/n. He also mentioned that Obanai was probably talking about you nonstop to his closest friend, Kaburamaru, and that he was also done with the inaction. So, we devised a plan and now here we are. Isn't that adorable?"

"I told you he was perceptive," said Obanai, clearly embarrassed, but you found the whole thing to be strangely sweet. You decided it was time to get back to your sleepover where you and Mitsuri could fangirl over this moment for the rest of the night so you bid Obanai and his snake farewell. Before you could turn away to leave, Obanai got your attention one last time.

"I hope that one day I'll be strong and worthy enough to speak of my truest, deepest feelings for you myself, but until then," he reached up to pick a small bunch of wisteria off the tree and tucked it behind your ear, "please accept this gift and the meaning I've imposed on it."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you Obanai. I hope our paths continue to cross in the future." As you made your way back into Mitsuri's room, Obanai watched you until you closed the screen door behind you and for a little while after that. He couldn't promise to love you in a conventional way, but he swore from that day on, he would keep you as safe as possible in this unpredictable world you lived in.

BONUS:

On the day of the hashira's departure from the safety of Ubuyashiki's lands, you felt your heart sink at the remembrance of the danger you and Obanai had to go back out and face. However, your aching chest was abated by the raven haired man that entered your view, timidly thrusting a lump of something into your palms. You quickly unraveled the folded fabric and you were greeted with two knee high socks with the same black and white striped pattern as Obanai's haori.

"Obanai, that's so thoughtful of you! I'll treasure these forever."

"You don't need to treasure them, they're just socks," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You giggled. "But they're from you. How could I not want to keep something so precious in good condition?"

"If they rip, I'll buy you more. So don't worry about it."

"Thank you so much for the kind gift." Your gaze softened at him as you frowned the tiniest bit. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, I feel bad."

"I don't need anything. Just..." He finally looked at you. Your hair ribbons mirrored his eyes once more (you swore to wear them like that until the day you died and then in every reincarnation you were born into) and he felt his heart beat against the walls of his chest. "Just don't die. That's all I ask of you. Let me be able to see you again."

Your own heart panged with the weight of his words. "I promise. I'll see you soon, Obanai Iguro."

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #obanai x reader #obanai iguro #obanai iguro x reader #kny x reader #obanai x reader fluff #obanai x you #obanai x y/n #fluff

[atinyniki]

dear (ex)lover.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!kim seungmin x f!reader

genre: pure angst, letter

warnings + additional info: seungmin is referred to as seungmin and min, seungmin was (and still is) a dick, seungmin is a player, seungmin led reader on, reader reminisces the past, reader blames seungmin for the downfall of their relationship (rightfully so), reader has past trauma from relationships, mentions of waiting till marriage, reader has body image issues, reader has been depressed, reader has trust issues, reader misses seungmin, just a really really sad angsty letter, intended lowercase, written in letter format.

authors note: okay. im so sorry for this... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1033

dear lover,

why don’t we talk anymore? i remember, you told me i was your best friend once. i remember, i was your best friend before i was your lover. i understand, your love for me is gone now, but weren’t we supposed to be friends? didn’t you tell me we could go back to the way it was? so why don’t you talk to me? why do you avoid my eyes when you see me? why do you ignore my texts?

why do you only speak to me when it’s convenient for you?

i remember when i first opened up to you, my love. i told you i didn’t fit in with the group. i didn't think you needed me, and i didn’t think the others did either. you told me you didn’t know you needed me until i was in your life. do you still need me? why did you love me like that if you were just going to ghost me in the end? we talked about so much. you bought me my wedding ring. i wore my heart on my sleeve for you. you gave me a promise ring. why did you break your promise? why did you write so many love letters to me, knowing that you were leaving in the end?

what did i do to be treated like this? i should have been better to you, right? it’s my fault, right? i had to have done something… right? what did i do? i can do better, i can. i can be a better friend, i promise. you were my first real friend. you held me when things were hard. i need you to hold me once more. you always did my hair all nice to distract me. i miss when you’d braid it. you even played with my stuffed animals with me. you were the first person who accepted me for me.

why don’t you like me anymore? why am i always the one to approach you? did you only speak to me because i spoke to you first? was this all one-sided and you only spoke to me because i annoyed you till you replied? i didn’t know. i didn’t know that i was being annoying. i didn’t realize it. i thought you wanted me too. i’ve been having nightmares again. you told me you’d be there. it’s funny, isn’t it? you promised you’d always be there, but now you’re the cause of them. you broke my trust. you fucked up, and i forgave you. again and again, i forgave you. i took you back for every mistake you made.

why did you take my heart for granted? why did you break me like this? am i unlovable? did you grow tired of me? could you not stand me anymore like the others? the boys told me what you said about me. what you said about my body. i know i don’t look the same anymore, but can’t you still love me? am i really all that different now? or maybe you just don’t want someone who rots in bed all day. yeah, they told me that part too. maybe you couldn’t deal with my past trauma. i’ve lost people in the past like i lost you before. you told me you wouldn’t leave me. not the way they did, at least. but you did. you left, and you ruined me in the process.

maybe i am unlovable. maybe this was meant to happen. was it for the better? did you mean it when you said you loved me those last nights we spent together? did you find it fun? breaking my heart? was it nice to watch me fall apart that night on my bedroom floor? was it fun to use my own pain against me? was it fun telling me it was my fault? did it take some of your guilt away?

i’m mad at you, still.

but a part of me still loves you. a part of me still wants to forgive you, and i don’t know why. i shouldn’t, i know. you don’t deserve my forgiveness. you don’t deserve anything i have to offer. but i still want to forgive you. i still want to love you like i used to. i still want to tell you that im here for you, and i still want to hold you while we fall asleep. i still want to brush away your tears, and i still want to do your skincare for you. but you’re fading away from my life. i don’t know the person i fell in love with anymore, because they aren’t you. i miss his sweet voice, and i miss his melting touch. i miss the sound of his heartbeat, and i miss his heart. but it’s always going to be you, isn’t it? it’s always been you. you’re the person i love most, but the feelings are fading away too. i want to keep them with me. i want to hold it all so tight that your love can’t escape anymore, but you’re gone. you’re gone, and you took my heart with you.

i’m sorry. was i not good enough for you? i wish i could have been the one for you. i don’t know if i’m allowed to say it, but i miss you, min. i miss our late night laughter, i miss our runs to the coffee shop. i miss the bond we had. where did it go? why am i the only one putting effort into this stupid friendship anymore? why do i always text first? why am i begging for you to love me again?

it’s stupid.

this is stupid.

you’re stupid.

i hate you.

i hate you for using me.

i hate you so much for ruining us.

i hate you for ruining what we had.

i hate you for ruining every memory with you.

i hate you for ruining me for anybody else.

you ruined me.

they’ll never be you.

no one will ever be you.

i hate you, kim seungmin.

i hate you.

i miss you.

i miss you, and i hate it.

i hate it.

i hate you.

i love you, your ex lover.

</3

#atinyniki #seungmin #kim seungmin #skz #stray kids #straykids #skz seungmin #skz kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #stray kids kim seungmin #straykids seungmin #straykids kim seungmin #seungmin angst #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin angst #skz angst #stray kids angst #straykids angst #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader

[braden-holtbys]

Stay, Stay With Me

A/N: Hi everyone, I'm getting back into writing again! This will be a bit different for me as I'm dipping my toes into writing fics with F1 drivers. Please let me know if I should make a part two or start making more F1 and hockey fics! Or let me know if there's anything that I can improve on.

Warnings: None

Carlos Sainz x reader

“Carlos, babe…,” you started to say as you motioned for him to sit on the couch next to you. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, what about?,” he asked as he sat next to you. He was puzzled, but it seemed serious from the look on your face. It’s something that was bothering you a lot, at least more than school and work. You have been in a masters program for athletic training since you two had started dating. Lately, you’ve been getting more and more hate about being Carlos’ girlfriend and how you’re just a freeloader, you don’t do anything, or you just go to school just to be closer to the other drivers.

Don’t leave me before the dark night traps me in. Do you still love me? If you feel the same, don’t leave today. Don’t ask why it has to be you, just stay with me.I don’t expect a lot right now, just stay with me. 

“I- I’ve been trying to not let this bother me so much, because I truly don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve been getting a lot of online harassment for being with you and people just think I’m a freeloader or that I’m getting a masters just to be closer to other drivers. I know this isn’t true, but-,” you started to choke up. “Maybe it’s better if we take a break or something.” 

Carlos looked at you with wide eyes, like you’re crazy for saying such things. Well it was more like the “fans” were crazy for even insinuating such things. For the last two years that you’ve been together, your hard work always shines through and he notices that. He’s always made sure to tell you that he loves that about you. No matter what team he’s one, the team principals, engineers, everyone, sees that and it’d be more of a loss to the team to not have you honestly. 

Tears fell from your eyes. It felt worse with the silence, but he started shaking his head.

There’s nothing more I want right now. I can’t even tell if my heart’s still beating. Instead of having forceful conversations with others, I’d rather enjoy the awkward silence with you. So stay, wherever that may be. When darkness comes in sometimes, I’ll be your fire. In a world full of lies, the only truth is you. This is a letter from me to you.

“Babe, I don’t accept this,” Carlos replied in a quiet voice as he pulled you into a hug. You held him, snaking your arms around him, and rubbing your hands up and down his back. “It hurts me to hear you say that, princesa. What they say shouldn’t matter, what I feel should. You’re my everything and I don’t want to lose you.” 

That made you cry a little harder, you couldn’t help it. He had thought that it was just school that was making you feel down, but no. He understood that “fans,” press, socials…. All that can be hard on the mind and heart at times. He reassured you as he kept kissing the top of your head, still holding you. 

“Bébe, I want you to stay, stay with me,” Carlos finally said after a long silence. He let go of you and used one of his hands to lift up your chin. He looked into your eyes with such love and content. “I love you so much, and it scares me that you said that. I understand if you still want to break. However, I want you to understand that I will always choose you. I swear, no one on our team thinks you’re what the “fans” think or say.” You wiped away your tears as you nodded.

“I want you too Carlos. I-I’m sorry it got to me and you know how much you mean to me. Please, let me stay?”

“Please stay because I don’t ever wanna let you go hermosa,” Carlos whispered as he came closer to kiss you. A deep, reassuring kiss that was needed. You melted in his arms as the kiss deepened before he broke away. There was a sparkle in both of your eyes, just for the other. It was obvious to others that you loved each other like you were the only two people on earth. 

“Thank you, hermoso,” You responded with a smile. 

“Nandito ako palagi para alagaan ka (I am always here to take care of you),” Carlos struggled to say, but he was learning. This is his way to again, reassure you that no matter what, you’re safe and he’s here for you.

Don’t leave me before the dark night traps me in. Do you still love me? If you feel the same, don’t leave today. Don’t ask why it has to be you, just stay with me.I don’t expect a lot right now, just stay with me.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Intertwined, sewn together

Summary: Trent thinks Y/n’s unlocked a dimension of love in him that he never knew existed, whilst Y/n is fighting her feelings, unsure what’s right in their relationship. The only thing that she’s sure of is her love for Trent…

Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Sad, Reader has commitment issues

Note: So the results from this poll was a one shot! I really enjoyed writing this, feels like I’ve not written angst for a while so this was so much fun.💌 Please let me know your thoughts ♡

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

1st of September

You had yet another dream about him. Why can’t you move on? When will this end? He held you in a way that no one’s ever had.

It comes in waves, you miss him a little less at times and then you miss him a little more. Although you swore that he’ll never hear from you again, you debate every time after a dream to make that call. Then you wish you’d stayed, you wish a lot of things but this, this is on a whole different scale. The scale of you missing Trent, could not be measured.

The moment you met each other, you both knew right away that you were perfect for one another. Time passed and it got more difficult, nothing happened in the way you wanted.

You spent your last summer with him, knowing it would probably be the last. You both knew.

28th of July

You lied awake, exhausted from the day. He was asleep, breathing slowly. The moonlight shined on his face so beautifully. Something inside you told you to leave but you thought, how can you begin again? How can you try to love someone new, who isn’t Trent?

As tears streamed down your face you kissed his forehead lightly so he wouldn’t wake up and left.

He’s going to wake up, without you. He will wonder where you are and he’ll think that this is where the story ends he just has to accept it and move on.

The memories, the good days, the bad days, they’ll be with you two always.

7th of September

Trent was spending some time at his mum’s house, filled with love from his family but the entire time he wished for Y/n to be with him. He don’t know how many times he’d thought in everyday, everything that ‘Y/n should be here’ or ‘Y/n would’ve laughed at that’,‘ Y/n would know what do to’.

He sat in the living room with his mother, watching some football to distract him from his thoughts.

“Oh Trent! Your birthday’s in one month!” Dianne exclaimed and Trent looked at his phone checking the date.

“Yeah.” He simply responded, completely emotionless.

“You should invite some friends over, maybe that girl that was here this summer. What’s her name again?” She asked and Trent got reminded of Y/n once again. He knew his mother adored her and Y/n loved being around Dianne as well, she was like her second mother. Trent knew that at some point this was going to happen.

“Y/n Y/l/n” He answered and watched his mother’s face lit up.

“Oh lovely Y/n Y/l/n, I miss her! What are she doing these days?” Dianne asked Trent and he started to get more upset thinking of her, his mother doesn’t know she’s not in his life anymore.

“I don’t know mum, we don’t see each anymore.” Trent revealed and the smile on Dianne’s face faded away.

“I’m sorry sweetie.” She said and comforted him as he couldn’t hold it in anymore, crying in his mother’s arms like he was a little boy.

“I guess you really loved her Trent.” She said after a while of rubbing his back.

“Yes, more than anything.” He sniffled and looked at his consoling mother.

“How do you know sweetheart?” Dianne implored and took ahold of his hand.

“Because nothing makes sense without her. Like everything was just at ease with her, and I know sometimes it wasn’t perfect and I said some wrong things, but that didn’t change our love, Mum.” He explained and she listened to every word.

“What you and Y/n had seemed special Trent and I’m sure she thinks that as well. Maybe you should try again?” His mother suggested as Trent looked up at her, giving it a thought.

“I don’t know.” Trent said and rubbed his eyes, ”I think I’m going to bed.” He added and Dianne gave him a quick peck on his cheek before he went up to his room.

8th of September

Trent woke up, tears forming in his eyes immediately as he opened them. The dream, was it real? Did the love of his life enter his life again and everything was how it once was? Anyways, it just a dream.

But he couldn’t let it go, he couldn’t go back to sleep. Y/n was all he thought about and at this point he couldn’t take it anymore.

He reached for his phone, the clock said 3am. She’s probably asleep he thought, or in somebody else’s bed. He could only pray for Y/n to pick up.

The signals kept going, until it reached voicemail. “Hey, it’s Y/n leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Just hearing your voice made his heart beat faster.

“Y/n, it’s T. Erm well there’s no easy way of saying this.” Trent started as his voice was shaking and he took deep breaths to not start crying. “I miss you, really bad and uh,” He then went silent, wondering why he’s even doing this. “It’s been very hard without you, my mum asked about you earlier, she misses you too. I’m sorry for calling this late but I hope you’re doing well,” He paused. “without me, bye.” He sniffled then broke down sobbing. His heart was psychically hurting and all he wanted was to be with you, curled up in your arms..

10th of September

You were almost done with your work and took your last sip of your tea. You were going to meet up with your friend after work but one thing changed so drastically. When you were about to call her you noticed a missed call from two days ago. Just by the look of last numbers, you knew.

As you walked home from work you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The voicemail. You didn’t want to listen too it, maybe it was just a drunk call or just some gibberish. But your heart knew, he would never do that. He wasn’t the type of guy to drunk call you so this must be something important.

You wish you didn’t care so much. You must admit that you wish you hated him. No, no you couldn’t. No matter how much you wanted to or how easy things could be if you’d actually hated him, you could never.

When you got home, you crashed down on your bed. You were dreading it, you tried to move on and not care about it, but it was impossible.

You pressed ‘call voicemail’ and then, you heard Trent’s voice.

“Y/n, it’s T. Erm well there’s no easy way of saying this. I miss you, really bad and uh, It’s been very hard without you, my mum asked about you earlier, she misses you too. I’m sorry for calling this late but I hope you’re doing well,”

“without me, bye.”

Oh. You didn’t expect that.

You sat completely still against your headboard as tears streamed down your face. He misses you. He misses you!

So what do you do now? You could just move on with your life and act like everything’s fine without Trent. Or, you could send him a message but that will ruin the fact that you promised yourself he’ll never hear from you again.

Here you go..

You: hey Trent, i just heard your voicemail. i’m sorry. don’t know what you’re doing in the next few days but maybe we can talk someday, in person?

You buried your head into your pillow and felt your phone buzz, only seconds after sending the message.

Trent: yeah i’m free, is Tuesday good for you?

You: yes that’ll work !

Trent: so maybe we can meet up in the cafe you liked near your place?

Oh gosh, he remembered.

You: sure

Trent: alright, see you there then

26th of July

One more sleepless night. He brought it up again. You fell asleep crying and Trent didn’t want to hear you cry, turning up the tv to escape the guilt he felt. It breaks your heart when you want to be with him so bad, but you’re afraid of your feelings.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away Trent.” You said after minutes of silence.

“It’s fine.” He answered, turning of the tv.

“But it’s not.” You noted.

“Just leave it Y/n, goodnight.” Trent mumbled and turned away from facing you.

12th of September

You checked your outfit and makeup for the hundredth time before you went out the door. You were a little bit late but not too late.

It was just a short walk to the cafe from where you lived. You didn’t want to go really but you forced yourself out of bed to make it. Ever since you received Trent’s voicemail, it’s been replaying in your head. Every single word. Will everything he says today also replay in your head forever?

When you walked in you noticed that he was already there, sitting at one table. You were glad this wasn’t a popular place, so that you two could get some privacy without people reporting they’ve seen you two together.

You took a deep breath before walking towards him and as you walked, he stood up. To hug you.

You could feel your cheeks burn, it felt like you were finally home again.

“Good to see you, Y/n.” Trent greeted as you sat down, still unable to relax when you were in his presence.

“Yeah, you too.” You smiled and took your coat off, you were becoming too warm.

“I ordered a hot chocolate for you, is that fine?” Trent said and you nodded back in response. Why is he acting like everything’s normal?

You got your hot chocolate from the barista who’s familiar with you and Trent.

“Lovely to see you two again!” She beamed and you and Trent looked at each other, smiling but deep inside you both knew that it’s not how it used to be.

“So Trent,” You started, taking a sip of your hot chocolate, that was indeed very hot. “How have you’ve been?” You continued.

“Well, better than July.” He joked and laughed it off but you knew he was lying.

“You?” Trent asked.

“I’m erm, I’m alright.” You paused. “I think.”

You wanted to get straight to the point, because there was so many things to talk about. Trent wanted to solve things and you too. So it was just up to one of you to break the ice.

“Can I just be honest with you?” You stated and he looked you in the eyes.

“Of course.”

“Okay I’m just gonna say it. I’ve missed you.” You revealed as you watched his eyes lit up a little.

“I’ve missed you too.” He expressed.

“No but, I’ve missed you like.. so so much, Trent.” You spoke and your voice was shaking.

“There been so many times where I wanted to call you. There’s things I’ve wanted to talk to you about but you weren’t there.” You went on and you noticed that his eyes were glossy.

“Y/n, even if you called after a year at 3am I’d still answer you know.” Trent confessed as you stopped a tear escaping from the corner of your eye.

“But I will never forget that night.” He noted, you forced yourself to think back at nights where you two argued or made love but there’s only one you’ve tried to forget.

“What night, Trent?” You implored.

“The night my heart dropped because I realised you were gone. I woke up and you were gone.”Trent shared as the tears streamed down his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt, baby.”

Now you were both crying. You know you cannot pretend that you don’t love him. There is no escape.

“Why did you have to leave, Y/n? I don’t understand, I just wished you’d stayed.” He whispered as you both dried your tears.

“I was scared Trent. I’ve never felt that kind of love you gave me before. I didn’t know what to do with myself and my feelings.” You explained and the tears streamed down your face again.

“I know you only tried to help me but you hurt me with those words you said you know?” You observed and remembered those nights where he doubted you, why you were scared to love him.

”I’m sorry Y/n.” He apologised and took your hand in his.

“You know I love you, and that’s never going to change, never.” Trent cried and you kissed his hand you were holding.

“I know.” You whispered, almost inaudibly.

”I love you too and I’m so sorry for leaving you like that, forgive me please?” You sniffled and he gave you a small smirk.

“I forgive you, my love.” He professed and smiled.

The lady who worked at the cafe started to walk towards your table and you looked around to see that there was only you and Trent left in the cafe, it was dark outside as well.

“Sorry to bother you two but we’re closing soon!” She happily informed you and Trent.

“Oh sorry, we should get going then.” Trent answered and you started to put your coat back on again.

You both left the cafe with puffy eyes but light hearted. Trent offered to walk with you to your place which you couldn’t deny after this afternoon. Hands intertwined as you both walked the short distance to your place. You and Trent walked in silence and just took in each other’s presence after such a long time apart, well two months but for you two it felt like forever.

You now stood outside your apartment, wondering what to do now.

“Alright, so what do we do now?” You spoke up, unsure what the future holds for you and him.

“I miss you, you miss me too. So why can’t we make it work?” Trent challenged and you sighed, “Because..”

“Because? There really is no reason, Y/n.” He asserted and you both chucked.

“You’re right.” You agreed and put your hands in your pockets as the cold autumn breeze came.

“I’ll see you around then.” Trent remarked and you nodded.

As you turned your back on him I didn’t feel right, something was missing. Trent.

You turned around and called his name, little did you know he already had turned around to you too.

Your lips met, his arms were wrapped around your waist and you didn’t care about your surroundings. 

How do you even let go of a person who feels like home?

“I can’t leave you now Y/n.” He laughed and you kissed his heart shaped lips once again.

“Can’t leave you either.” You blushed.

You took his hand and went inside your apartment, he couldn’t contain himself from leaving kisses all over you neck and your face.

You were no longer scared of your feelings because you knew that no matter how hard you tried to deny them, they were always there. Your love for Trent won against every fear you had.

You two were living in parallels the entire time you were apart. You both dreamed about each other, wanted to call one another but didn’t, until Trent got the courage to do it. Because he couldn’t stand another day without you.

The story you both thought died was never over.

Your love for each other was never over.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent x reader #trent alexander arnold fic #england x reader #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #football imagine #trent imagine #trent alexander arnold imagines #football fic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

diasomnia ice-cream parlor au doodles

[Referencing this post!]

Hello, yes, I’ve been thinking about the Diasomnia ice-cream parlor AU again 🍨🍦 I guess I must have been really hungry lately www

I see them as offering not just ice-cream, bur also variants like gelato, shaved ice, milkshakes, etc. (They can afford it with support from the Draconia royal family’s funds 😂) The focus here will be ice-cream though, just because that’s Malleus’s favorite.

Imagine walking in and not knowing what to order (there’s so much to choose from!), so you ask the staff to pick something for you… (Yes, I’ve thought about this way too much and now I’m going to shovel this at you—)

Malleus strikes me as a very traditional and old-fashioned guy, so I’d see him falling back on ol’ reliable. You can’t go wrong with a classic sugar cone and a healthy scoop on top!

He recommends mint chocolate chip because it adds an additional pleasant cooling sensation to the actual coldness of ice-cream. Malleus is fond of the flavor himself; it’s great for cooling down a mouth that’s hot from breathing flames!

You’re brave if you accept anything Lilia hands you… You ask him what this is (the ice-cream looks… discolored in some places, and there’s all this weird stuff jutting out from it; is that a piece of lettuce???). He just winks at you and calls it “Lilia-chan’s Super Cute ⭐️ Special”, featuring a bunch of “unique” flavors he created himself.

It comes served in a cup because it’s easier to eat it while walking that way. For Lilia, who is a well-seasoned traveler, foods that are able to be eaten on the go are a plus!

Silver picks out a waffle bowl (it resembles a sturdy bird’s nest) and encourages you to try a lot of different things. It’ll help you to gain an appreciation for the new and unfamiliar! With how wide the waffle bowl is and how many flavors and toppings are in there, this can be good for sharing with friends from all over.

The particular version featured in the doodle has three kinds of ice-cream, each one representing one of the three Good Fairies. A pink flavor, a blue flavor, and a green flavor—maybe rose or strawberry, blueberry or cotton candy, and pistachio? It’s a very naturey palate.

His animal friends have helped with the ingredients; there’s honey drizzled on top, as well as crushed nuts. Freshly picked berries and edible flowers garnish the bowl too—oh, and we can’t forget a generous chunk of honeycomb!

… I don’t know much about Kingdom Hearts, but I’ve heard that Silver resembles Riku from KH?? So maybe Silver can offer some sea salt ice-cream too as a throwback 😂

… Was anyone surprised by this? No? No.

Sebek chose a tall parfait glass for serving so that the dessert can be as tall as possible. It’s a matcha and ube soft serve, swirled high. The green is Diasomnia’s color, and the purple is meant to be the color of the underside of Malleus’s cape. (Sebek wanted to include black ice-cream to for the Draconia royal color, but couldn’t find a good flavor.)

Art isn’t his forte, but Sebek did his best to “recreate the imposing, elegant image of wakasama” in his dessert. The cherry on top, flanked by two conical chocolate pieces, are meant to be Malleus and his horns. The wafer poking out is supposed to “enhance the young master’s presence”. All the other things are extra details in an effort to make the ice-cream larger than life: candied fruit peels arranged in a line (to resemble the spines on a dragon’s tail), mochi balls (“magestones”) piled to one side, and a chocolate biscuit stick + wafer that, together, look like Malleus’s staff.

Sebek tried really hard! … He will aggressively try to sell you on this item.

If you’re really hungry or with a large group, why not go for the Diasomnia Family Fundae? It’s their take on a sundae, served in a glass boat. There’s a whole banana, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and three maraschino cherries! The bramble is made of dark chocolate.

Each student is represented by one scoop and a little candy or chocolate that helps to characterize the boy (horns, bat wings, lightning bolt, or sword). Sebek is a lemon-like sherbet, befitting of his loud, in-your-face personality. Lilia is a bright red berry flavor (strawberries, cherries, cranberries, etc.), like his favorite red juices, deep and complex. Silver is vanilla bean, pure, simple, and earnest. (He could also be a subtle lavender flavor, since that's a flower known to ease you into sleep.) And Malleus… well, that scoop is a pitch black, but the flavor is something you can’t quite place your tongue on. It’s a mystery, just like he is! (Maybe the shop changes the flavor every now and again. They can run a promo where if you guess the right flavor combo for that particular week’s Malleus scoop, they give you a discount or a free cone.)

A lot of chocolate sauce is dripping down from the Malleus scoop; this is because the sauce is supposed to be his “blot”. The bottom three scoops—Lilia, Sebek, and Silver—are blanketed by the chocolate thorns as a reference to how those three were sentenced to sleep.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Diasomnia #twst AU #twisted wonderland AU #AU #notes from the writing raven #my art #Lilia Vanrouge #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #spoilers #Kingdom Hearts #KH Riku #Kingdom Hearts Riku #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst

[lsd-astronaut]

Hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you do a fluffy Crowley x Demon!reader x Aziraphale fic (or headcanons)??

Maybe something like what it’s like all being in a relationship together?

(Also if it’s not too much to ask can the reader use a cane to walk around? Maybe because of something relating to when they fell and became a demon? If not that’s okay!!!)

First of all, I love you and I could kiss you in the mouth right now. I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THAT CROWLEY WOULD HAVE CHRONIC PAIN BC OF THE FUCKING FALL. I refuse to believe for one moment that you can fall all the way from Heaven, land on the ground and be all “hey guys i’m fine!”

Aziraphale x Demon!Reader x Crowley

Please like and reblog<3

Warnings: chronic pain, but nothing else, this is just good old fluff

• You were an archangel along with Crowley, with the same obligations in making the cosmos✨ so you both met Aziraphale at the same time

• When Azi told you both that the project was destined to close in a few thousand years, you were the one that proposed to fill a complain to God (and crowley seconded you)

• Cue a war and a Fall later, Crowley and you are in Hell, but in different departments so you don’t see each other much

• In fact, you didn’t see Azi and Crowley for the first time since the Fall until the crucifixion of Jesus

• You stood beside them in silent reverence to this poor soul lost for all of humanity

• “What sort of mother would wish this fate upon her own kin?” Crowley and Azi turned to you with confused expressions (although Crowley gained a lot of respect for that comment hehe)

• After some idle conversation, and Crowley convincing Aziraphale not to just smite you right there and then, you three decide to traverse the world

• Centuries pass, and Crowley and you stay around humans (you love their way of living, and he likes children so everyone wins)

• You like to read everything you can get your hands on, to Crowley’s chagrin

• “Now I have two bookworms. What have I done to deserve this?”

• It’s circa the year 1000, in the new continent that these curious people called Vikings have discovered, when Crowley and you decide to experiment a human thing that you had wanted to try for a long time

• Your first kiss is messy, and there are more teeth than anything else; besides Crowley insists it feels slimey

• However, she can’t help but to accept he got a bit aroused by it

• Practice makes better, as they say, and so you do

• Although you spend the most time with Crowley, your relationship with Aziraphale also evolves throughout the years

• The “we have a mutual but I still don’t like you” to “maybe I do care about you” pipeline, if you want

• You take him to all kind of food places and bookstores, and he warms up to you a lot

• Introducing him to classical music was your proudest moment, and also the pettiest as Crowley had crossed you a bit beforehand

• The first time you kiss Aziraphale (or rather, he does), is one time you both were a bit tipsy during a masquerade ball in Paris in the 18th century

• He is a bit unexperienced but he gets the hang out of it really quick

• The three of you “confess” to each other in 1941, after the magic show fiasco

• Crowley looks nonchalant but you can see behind his eyes, he was worried sick he would be separated from both of you

• You make sure to give him extra cuddles that night

• Fast forward to 2008 and you work in Warlock’s house along with Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, you being Warlock’s governess (like this is the fucking 1800s or smth lmao)

• It is at this time that the two of them notice you limping a bit every day after all chores have been done

• You insist that it is nothing and that you are perfectly capable of walking

• However, Ashtoreth happens to see you during one of your bad flares

• She immediately helps you to sit down on the bed, and looks at you expecting an explanation

• Her no-nonsense glare deters you from making up an excuse so you tell her the whole truth

• When you had fallen, you hadn’t landed correctly and had broken your legs on impact

• Miracles hadn’t done the full job and so you had been forced to endure the pain of the bones repairing themselves not quite right

• You had learned to mask the pain after centuries of practice but some days were just worse than others

• The next day, Ashtoreth gifts you a cane adorned with a snake head with little wings

• You proudly use it every day forward

• After the Second Coming, the three of you go to live in South Downs, finally able to be yourselves together

• There is still so much stuff to learn about everything, but you’re immortal and you are not alone, so why the hurry?

• As the sun sets on the horizon, you lean your head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reads one of Jane Austen’s books, and Crowley’s head is on your lap, already snoring softly

• You will be okay

I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if this is not what you asked for exactly as it is my first time writing for these two and I haven’t written either in two years so I feel I’m very rusty. I forgot ab the chronic pain until almost at the end, and I talk more about the history of you relationship than the actual relationship in itself lmao

Still, I hope you like it!

#good omens #good omens x reader #good omens fanfiction #good omens headcanons #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader x crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale

[fluentmoviequoter]

Love (Both of) You More

Part 2 of Love (Both of) You

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You grow closer to Deacon throughout your pregnancy and learn that you aren't the only one who loves him. (This picks up about a month after Part 1 and covers the rest of the pregnancy and birth!)

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, vague threat from r's ex-husband, protective Luca and Deacon, labor and birth, more fluff, Deacon sings Sinatra

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on the first part! I really enjoyed writing this! An extra special thanks to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for the amazing ideas and for being so kind!!🫶🏼

Living with Deacon Kay for a month has changed your perspective on a lot of things. Your life changed in an hour, in the moments between when your now ex-husband kicked you out and when you found solace and comfort in Deacon’s arms. Now, everything is different and infinitely better, even if you’re pregnant and suffer daily from dizziness and nausea. The moment Deacon wraps you in his arms, it doesn’t seem to matter.

“What are you thinking?” Deacon inquires softly.

“Are you sure?” you ask Deacon.

He chuckles and his arms shake around your shoulders. “Of course.”

You look down at your growing bump and frown. “You wouldn’t prefer to wait four months?”

Deacon moves his hand to your chin and directs your face toward his. “No, I would not. Whatever you are thinking, it’s not true. You’re pregnant, but you’re still you. Still beautiful.”

You nod slowly against Deacon’s hand, and his eyes soften as your smile grows. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Deacon replies happily. “I asked if you would be my girlfr-“

You lay your hand over Deacon’s mouth and say, “Just because I already live here doesn’t mean we can jump to that.”

Deacon gently pulls your wrist away from his face, but not before he kisses your fingers. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to say yes,” you whisper.

“I can wait. For both of you.”

When your phone rings after Deacon leaves for work, your vision is blurry from dizziness. Despite not knowing who is calling, you answer and say your name.

“Good morning,” your realtor greets. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“They didn’t accept my offer?” you guess, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry. I did find another house in the neighbourhood; it just hit the market and it’s got everything you want.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll, uh… Can you send me the listing and I’ll get back to you?”

“Of course. Have a good one.”

You hang up and drop your head into your hands. The dizziness hasn’t passed, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths before the stress of the bad news can make you feel any worse. As your stomach begins to churn, you reach for your phone again. Before you can find Deacon’s contact in your favorites list, his front door opens.

“Deac,” you whimper as he returns.

“You’re okay,” he assures softly.

He walks to the couch and kneels beside you. The moment his hands meet your arms, you relax.

“What happened?” Deacon asks.

“I was really dizzy, and then the realtor called…”

“You didn’t get the house?”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to pull you into his arms. With your face pressed to his shoulder, your breaths grow more regular, and your dizziness begins to fade.

“Listen,” Deacon requests. “I know that it’s hard, that you are dealing with everything and holding it together for this little guy… Would you maybe want to stay here? Just until the baby is born and then you can get a house without having to worry about this. The stress isn’t good for you, but I want you here. Being by your side is- it’s the best place I’ve ever been.”

You nod against Deacon’s shoulder. His arms wrap tighter around you, and you suddenly remember he is supposed to be at work.

“Why’d you come back?” you ask.

“Would you believe me if I said I felt like I should?” When you shake your head and smile, Deacon amends, “I forgot my coffee and can’t live without it.”

You laugh and lean back. With the room to leave, Deacon leans closer to you and lays his hand over your stomach.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I love you, Deacon.”

“I love you,” he replies. “Both of you.”

At 15 weeks pregnant, you’re convinced that your baby is going to be an Olympic gymnast. Between the kicks to your bladder and the discomfort he or she can cause, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to simply sit and be comfortable. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been to the bathroom or shifted to find a better position, but it’s been an all-day battle.

“We’ve got 25 more weeks of this,” you whisper to your stomach. “Could we try to work together?”

A sharp pain against your side is your answer, and you shake your head in both discomfort and amusement. Deacon will be home soon, but you don’t want to concern him by mentioning any issues. When he does return, you raise your arms and hug him tightly.

“I missed you,” you say. It’s punctuated with a kiss on his jaw. “And I have an answer.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he awaits your answer.

“I’m ready to say yes. I want to be your girlfriend, Deacon, more than anything.”

“I love you,” Deacon says.

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you. You move with Deacon until you hiss in pain and pull away. With a hand pressed to your bump, you wonder how someone can move so much in such a small space.

“You alright?” Deacon asks.

“Mostly. Someone’s active today.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Deacon urges.

After he helps you lower to the couch and kisses your forehead, Deacon walks to the kitchen. You twist as more kicks begin and tilt your head back as tears prick your eyes. Whether it’s pain or hormones, you can’t tell, but it’s not enjoyable.

“Let me try something,” Deacon says.

You nod to welcome him, and after he sets a snack and a glass of water before you (which you smile at), he sits beside you. He lays his hand over your stomach and brushes his thumb against you.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly. “Troubles more or less bother me, I guess When the sun doesn’t shine, But there’s a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles The world’s a bright and shiny apple that’s mine, All mine.”

As Deacon sings, your baby calms. You relax beneath Deacon’s touch, and he smiles up at you through the words of the song. You’ve told Deacon that you love him, but it’s clear that you aren’t the only one.

“Thank you,” you tell Deacon after he finishes the song. “We love you, Deacon Sinatra.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Deacon argues.

He kisses you, and your baby kicks. As you groan, Deacon chuckles and leans toward your bump again.

Your 16-week appointment is one of the most exciting, though you think Deacon is more excited than you. The appointment will tell you the gender of your baby, which has been the topic of many debates between Deacon and Luca over the last three months. Deacon is convinced it’s a boy, but Luca won’t change his vote for a girl. Either way, you know your baby is going to have an amazing and protective father figure and uncle in Deacon and Luca.

Two days before the appointment, however, everyone’s excitement levels drop. Deacon calls you as soon as he learns that he has to be in court the day of your ultrasound.

“I’m so sorry,” Deacon apologizes. “I would be there- I want to be there, but this court date came up out of nowhere and I have to testify.”

“I can try to reschedule the appointment,” you offer. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“No, no, you need to go. I just- I’ll find out when I get home.”

“Sorry, Deac. If you happen to get out of court early or anything, you know you’re welcome to drop by.”

“Yeah.” Deacon sighs before he says, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

After you end the call, you stare at your phone for a moment. Deacon was so excited when you asked him to come with you, and now he finds out just a few days before the most important ultrasound of your pregnancy that he can’t be with you. You’ll have to do something for him, and you have an excellent idea.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luca asks quickly when he answers.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “I just talked to Deacon, and he can’t come to the appointment this week. So, I wanted to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need your help to surprise Deacon.”

“Oh, I’m in.”

“He’s here,” you alert Luca. “Thank you for helping.”

“Of course,” he replies. “He’s going to be thrilled. You’re good for him.”

“I think you have that backward.”

“You’re good for each other. Trust me, I know things.”

You chuckle and shake your head. Luca pulls you into a hug and keeps one of his arms over your shoulders as Deacon enters the front door.

“Hey,” Deacon greets. “Luca.”

“Luca is here to tell us if I’m having a boy or a girl,” you explain.

“But you-“

“I told them not to tell me. So, they put it in an envelope and gave it to Luca.”

Deacon smiles and pulls you from Luca’s arms and into his. Luca scoffs and mumbles something about being your best friend before he walks away. You wrap your arms around Deacon from your position at his side.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Deacon tells you.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to.”

Luca returns with an oversized box. He shrugs at Deacon’s surprised look and says, “We couldn’t decide. So, would you like a lightsaber or your girl’s idea?”

“A lightsaber?” Deacon repeats. “I do want to see it, but I’ll take hers.”

“It’s not much,” you interject.

Luca nods and removes two smaller boxes. He sets them on Deacon’s kitchen table and steps back. You clutch Deacon’s hand between both of yours as he walks you to the table.

“Cake’s on the left, outfit’s on the right,” Luca tells you.

“I saw the ideas online,” you say. “The cake is either pink or blue, and the outfit is for the baby, so it’s for a boy or girl.”

“You pick,” Deacon offers. “Your baby.”

You shake your head and argue, “Your surprise.”

“Both, then. All of the above. I’ll cut the cake, you open the box, and Luca turns on the lightsaber.”

“Yes!” Luca exclaims.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree.

You stand before the box with the newborn outfit in it, Deacon holds a cake knife over the confetti-decorated cake, and Luca raises the lightsaber before him. With the lights dimmed, you count down from three. The lightsaber buzzes as the light glows from the handle up to the top, and you look from the outfit to the cake, to the glowing toy.

“You were right,” you cheer as you wrap your arms around Deacon.

“It’s a boy!” Deacon yells as he hugs you tightly.

“I have a nephew!” Luca exclaims as he twirls the lightsaber.

Deacon pulls back from the hug and gently wipes the joyful tears from your face before he looks at the outfit in your box. This is better than anything you could’ve heard in the doctor’s office, and you’re glad that you have both Deacon and Luca by your side.

“Hey, what flavor is that?” you ask as you look at the cake.

“Your favorite,” Luca answers. “Because I’m a good friend and a better uncle.”

You watch him play with the lightsaber as you lean against Deacon. This is home, you decide, and he always will be.

“Sit down,” Luca demands. “You’re almost five months pregnant, you’re not helping.”

“I’m pretty sure you said I’ll help you move in not I’ll move in for you,” you argue.

“Absolutely not,” Deacon adds as he walks through with a box. “You’re not lifting anything.”

“Then let me put stuff away!” you try.

“And stand for hours? No.”

“Take a seat. We can handle it,” Luca promises.

You huff as you sit back on the couch. Luca and Deacon walk out to get more boxes from the back of Luca’s truck. There wasn’t much to move, and your ex had put everything in a storage unit and then shipped the key to your attorney. Outside, Deacon and Luca get another reminder of your ex as they prepare to move a larger box.

“Hold up,” Luca requests. He pulls his ringing phone from his pocket and answers, “Luca.”

“Hey,” your ex greets.

“I told you to stop calling,” Luca seethes.

He stands up straighter and Deacon raises his brows in question.

“Yeah, well, my baby is due pretty soon. I want to know where she’s having my kid so I can be there.”

“You’re not welcome, and you never will be.”

Luca hangs up and shakes his head. Before he tells Deacon who it is, his phone rings again.

“Don’t hang up on me,” your ex begins. “I have a right to know.”

“You lost that right when you kicked the mother of your child out and divorced her just because she was pregnant. No one wants you here, and if you call one more time, the only answer you’re going to get is a restraining order.”

“I’ll find her myself, then.”

“Listen very closely,” Luca says darkly, surprising Deacon with how quickly his attitude intensified. “Do not come near her and stop calling. You’re not a father, you never were.”

“That wasn’t the first time,” Deacon says after Luca ends the call. “How many times has he called?”

“It’s been a while. He called every day for the first month or so, but nothing until now. He said he wanted to be there for the birth.”

“Luca, she-“

“She is getting a restraining order,” Luca interrupts. “Not that I think she’ll argue.”

Deacon nods and jumps out of the bed of the truck to go inside. Luca knows that it’s time to tell you, so he follows Deacon inside.

“Why are you up?” Deacon asks. “C’mon, we need to talk about something.”

“Oh,” you say, looking between Deacon and Luca. “About what?”

“Your ex.”

“He called today, and it wasn’t the first time. For some reason, he wanted to know where you were having the baby because he wants to be there,” Luca explains. “It was the first call in months, but I think you should consider a restraining order, just to be safe.”

You nod and immediately agree. “Thank you for dealing with it, Luca, and for not telling me. I don’t think I could’ve handled it before now.”

“What changed?” Deacon asks.

“Everything. You, moving in. I didn’t love him and I’m really happy now.”

Deacon pulls you close, and Luca teases you about stealing his only capable helper as he exits the house to bring in another box.

“I’m happy with you,” you whisper. “Thank you, Deacon.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he checks.

“I’ve never been better than I am with you,” you assure. “Thank you for everything.”

The halfway point of your pregnancy passes in a blur, but the five-month mark feels like someone slammed on the brakes. The entire 21st week of your pregnancy, you were nauseous, dizzy, sick, and tired. You kept it from Deacon for a few days, but Luca found out somehow and checked in on you often.

An hour after you went to bed, you wake suddenly and move as quietly as possible to the bathroom. Two silent trips later, you decide to stay there rather than risk waking Deacon. Leaning back against the cool tub, you close your eyes.

“What happened to tell me when things happen?” Deacon asks from the doorway.

“Nothing happened,” you argue tiredly.

“You’re just taking a nap in the tub because it looked comfortable, then?”

“Easier than going back and forth.”

Deacon offers his hands and helps you up slowly. You begin to argue with him, but when he leads you past your temporary home in his guest room, you fall quiet. He welcomes you into his arms in his bed, and you fall asleep and stay asleep. Deacon cares about you, and every time he shows that care, you grow more convinced that you won’t be able to leave him.

“You’re glowing!” Street says.

You look up quickly and smile when you see him. The decision to stop by the station and see Deacon and Luca was last minute, but you’re glad you’re here.

“Is it pregnancy glow or I’m dating Deacon Kay glow?” Street inquires playfully.

“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” you joke.

Street furrows his brows in confusion, and you wave your hand before his face and laugh. He swats your hand away gently and gestures for you to follow him. As you approach Luca, with his back to you, Street raises a finger to his lips and points. You roll your eyes but do it anyway.

When you grab Luca’s shoulders, he spins quickly. He inhales sharply when he sees you and tries to act mad, but when you raise your arms for a hug, he smiles and pulls you in.

“About time you visit again,” Hondo exclaims.

You smile and hug him quickly, and soon every member of 20 Squad – except for Deacon – is around you and asking about you and your son. When Deacon returns from the locker room, you’re pulled from the center of the circle and into his arms.

“Hey, when’s the baby shower?” Street asks.

“Never. I’m not inviting you guys to buy me gifts,” you say.

“Too late. They’re taking up space in the locker room,” Hondo replies. “Give us a date or we’re sending them all home with Deac.”

You shrug, and Luca says, “Saturday, my house.”

“Is it always like this?” you ask Deacon.

He nods and whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

At six months pregnant, you had accepted that you weren’t in a position to have a baby shower. Yet, here you sit, surrounded by cops and their families with an entire table full of gifts and more well wishes and love than you thought existed.

“Excuse us,” Deacon interrupts.

He apologizes to Hicks and Molly as he pulls you away but steers you directly to the couch before he tells you why he needed you.

“You’re getting tired,” he says. “Take a breather.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Or maybe I just need cake.”

“You’re going to end up on bedrest if you keep this up,” Deacon reminds you, though his voice and smile are gentle.

“Being with you 24/7,” you muse. “Maybe I’ll keep it up.”

Deacon shakes his head but kisses your forehead before he asks you to rest for a minute before you go back to socializing.

“Hello,” Deacon greets over the phone. “I was about to call you.”

“My water just broke,” you say. “Sorry, hi.”

“Did you say your water broke?”

“Yeah, like two minutes ago.” You grunt as a contraction begins.

“We’re on the way,” Deacon says. “Stay on the phone with me.”

“I’m not about to have the baby, you’ve got time.”

“I missed enough.”

“Wait, we?”

“You think Luca would let me leave without him?”

You chuckle through the end of the contraction and listen to Deacon yelling for Luca. He’s calm, but rushing, as if you’ll have the baby in the twenty minutes it will take him to get here.

“You’re amazing,” you tell Deacon.

“That’s all you. We’re leaving now. How do you feel?” he asks.

“I feel fine. Contractions hurt a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“We get to meet little man!” Luca cheers. “Hey, did she pick a name yet?”

“A few,” you and Deacon say together. “She’ll pick when she sees him,” he tells Luca.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Deacon and Luca rush into his house. You’re waiting by the door with your hospital bag, and you smile as Luca takes your bag. Deacon sits with you in the backseat of his car as Luca drives.

After you enter the hospital with two protective men wearing SWAT uniforms, you get into a private room before you can even sit in the waiting area. Your contractions grow closer quickly, and Deacon’s hand stays in your through every moment of labor. Luca is waiting outside to meet your son, but at this moment, you only notice Deacon.

“You’re amazing,” Deacon tells you. “You can do this.”

He continues to encourage you and stays close to you throughout the entire process. The moment your son’s cries fill the room, you relax and whisper, “Thank you” to Deacon.

“A beautiful baby boy,” the nurse says as she passes your son to you.

You hold him against your chest, and you look up at Deacon. He smiles at you and lays his hand over yours on your son’s back. His eyes are misty, and you mouth I love you, which he returns without hesitation.

“We’ll be right back,” the nurse promises as she lifts your son. “Just a quick check-up.”

After the room clears, and only you and Deacon remain, you sit up carefully and pull him closer by his hand.

“I have a question,” you say. Deacon nods, and you ask, “Can I give him your last name?”

Deacon’s eyes widen but he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t have to; you don’t have to!” you add quickly. “I just thought-“

“Yes,” Deacon whispers as a tear breaks past his water line. “Yes.”

You sigh and smile as Deacon wraps both of his hands around yours.

“You’re the only father he’s had, the only one he will have,” you explain. “Thank you.”

Deacon bends over to kiss you, and you wipe his tears before he stands. The nurse returns soon after, and Deacon takes your son from her and holds him to his chest. Deacon may not be the reason this baby exists, but he’s his son, no matter what happens.

“He’s perfect,” Luca whispers as he enters your room. “Looks just like you.”

“Thank you for everything, Luca,” you reply.

“Are you kidding? I’m just getting started.”

He lifts a giant gift bag onto your bed, and you smile before you look at Deacon and your son. They’re both perfect, you think.

“We need to talk,” Deacon says as he returns from the nursery. He sits beside you and adds, “It’s about what you’re comfortable with me doing.”

“Everything,” you say.

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” you assure, pressing your hand to Deacon’s chest. “You’re his father, Deacon, and if you want to do anything for him, I won’t stop you. He loves you… almost as much as I do.”

Deacon smiles as he leans forward to kiss you. He told you in the hospital after you gave birth that he wanted to step in and be a father to your son, and you quickly corrected him to say our son. Even before you started dating Deacon, you knew there was something special about him, and now that you’re in a real relationship with him, you understand that everything about Deacon Kay is special.

With your head on Deacon’s chest and his arms around you, his touch and heartbeat lull you to sleep. Your son falls asleep the moment Deacon picks him up, too, and the realization makes Deacon smile. Deacon brushes his hand over your shoulder as he lays awake. He doesn’t know how much time passes before your son starts crying. Deacon turns down the baby monitor beside him and stands, careful not to disturb you.

He enters the nursery he set up before you gave birth and gently picks his son up. Deacon sways as he rubs little Kay’s back.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly.

With Deacon's touch, his voice, and the vibrations of his chest, your son calms quickly and falls asleep against Deacon’s chest. When Deacon turns, you’re leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” you whisper. “He still likes it.”

Deacon raises one arm, and you join his side. He kisses your head before you tilt your chin up for a proper kiss.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you more than I can say,” he replies. “Both of you.”

Deacon begins singing again and sways. He locks eyes with you as he changes the song to The Way You Look Tonight. Your relationship with Deacon gets better daily, and this moment proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Deacon is a great father, and he does love both of you.

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

[verycharismaticdragon]

Currently reading a Korean webnovel instead of Chinese ones and this is making me conceptualize something, let’s see if I can put it in words…

My musings started with realizing that I’ve become very used to this cnovels thing where the main pairing is literally stated in the summary. Not the case for the k-novel I’m reading, and therefore I’m experiencing Pain and Suffering, — torn between my every instinct screaming that the author is setting up the OT3 endgame, and trying to lower my expectations to avoid disappointment. (And the novel is ongoing so I can’t even get spoilers for the ending :) girl help.)

As you may’ve guessed, I found myself strongly preferring the Chinese variant; but as to why exactly it was so important for my enjoyment to know the main couple… it took me a bit to figure out.

I mean, it’s not like I’m reading exclusively for romance, okay? Fannish activity-wise, sure, I tend to get fixated on ships (though even then, not all the time), but when it comes to reading (or any media intake, really), it’s not necessarily what I’m most interested in. Among my beloved titles, there are many where there’s no canon or fanon couple I'm attached to — and more than a few where there’s a canon couple that I neither love nor hate, just accept. So why did I get so attached to the concept of being, essentially, spoiled the endgame couple beforehand?

The key word that made it click was: promise. After all, it’s not like knowing the names of the characters that get together tells me anything about if they will be interesting or boring together, if they will be good for each other or make me scream “break up!” a million times. But it is a solid promise that these two people ARE gonna be a couple. 

And thinking about the word promise reminded me of discussions on plot twists that I’ve seen on here, about what makes a good plot twist and what makes a bad one — specifically, the phrase “narrative promise” that someone came up with. Basically, narrative promise is in the set up and the build up. If the plot twist betrays the narrative promise, it will not work, and it will be hated by the audience, who’ll feel like their emotional investment into the story was mocked.

The thing about the narrative promise, and why this term stuck with me, is that it’s actually applicable more broadly than just for shock-factor plot twists. For example: what is queerbaiting, if not betraying the narrative promise that the two characters are gonna be together? The fans see the narrative promise — the set up and the build up that would be unequivocally romantic for a het couple — and expect it to be fulfilled; only to be called delusional by the very creators that gave them this expectation. 

And this brings me to the next point: the catch of the “narrative promise” is that it’s never a guarantee. You can be completely sure the author is setting up X, only for them to turn around and do something completely different. (Possibly while calling you a little bitch for having the stupidity to invest your feelings into their creation, too.) After a while, a fan learns to manage their expectations. To not bet too much on anything, even if it feels like there’s no other way it can go. To wait until the end of the season or the last chapter before allowing themselves to get attached; to hold back on deciding whether something is good or not, lest they hype up something they will want to bury and forget later.

And this is where we circle back to c-novels, and to spoiling the main couple in the summary. Except I hesitate to call it “spoiling” because, as discussed, it actually heightens my enjoyment. For a simple reason: this practice takes the narrative promise from its nebulous, uncertain status to something concrete and real. Only for this one aspect and with the minimal-est amount of information possible, but still. That’s one thing I don’t have to guess about or doubt myself on (am I seeing things? is there a heterosexual explanation another way to read this? will the author simply kill off one of the characters before the end so that they don’t have to decide whether to make them explicitly queer?), and one thing I can count on (whatever else happens in the plot, I’ll still have this). It’s easy to invest emotionally into those characters and their relationship, when you have an assurance of their happy ending.

Ofc, I’m not saying that I don’t invest emotionally into relationships or characters other than the main CP — just that it is easier. And I would even say having this one(1) hard promise makes it easier to invest into other elements of the work, too, as it makes for a sort of safety net even if something else is disappointing or painful. 

Like, say you are invested in one couple with great chemistry and one side character. In case of a pre-stated ship, even if the side character dies, at least you still have the canon couple. So it’s not like all of your emotional connection to the book is lost, and you can probably bear with the loss of that character by writing everybody lives AU or something. But if the side character dies AND the couple you were invested in gets broken up or killed off or straight-married with other ppl… then doesn’t that make the entire thing into one massive disappointment? to the point that you might even regret picking up the book that made you care only to slap you in the face?.. 

So yeah, having even just one ship guaranteed is very comforting. And then I thought, well, doesn’t this apply to another type of fiction that I’m very familiar with?

Fanfiction?

Which, since very early on, has adopted the practice of putting the endgame ship in the header of the fic. And which, probably not coincidentally, is often a response to a broken (or at the very least not brought to its logical conclusion) narrative promise. And which always felt uniquely easy to read for me… 

See, prior to getting on this little thought train, I always assumed the ease was due to pre-existing familiarity with canon. You know, not having to learn the entire new setting, already having attachment to the characters… But now that I’ve connected these dots, I thought about times I read fics for fandoms I wasn’t familiar with, and originals formatted as fics — and really, wasn’t it always about the narrative promise made solid? 

Esp with how fics make it even broader than cnovels, by having extensive tags and ratings and such. Getting into a fic, you have a pretty clear idea of what may or may not happen in the story, even if you don’t know what exactly will happen or how. And a fic can fail to live up to the premise set up by ship/rating/tags — but not completely turn its back on it. 

(Well, normally. But in those exceptional cases where tags are misleading, at least you have something to point to when saying, “this is not what I was promised”. The ficwriter can hardly claim they don't understand why you expected [ship] to happen when they personally tagged their work as containing that ship — unlike the traditional media creators, who can always play the "you were totally misunderstanding my intentions the entire time" card.)

And having a solid promise like this, it turns out, takes lotsa pressure off starting a New Unfamiliar thing. I do, in fact, trust like that! So it’s no wonder that there were periods in my life when I would only consume fanfiction, because it was so much easier than extending trust to new titles. And it’s no wonder that what brought me back to being an avid reader were Chinese webnovels that use a practice very similar to what we have in fandoms.

I guess I understand myself better now! Still wish I knew if that k-novel's author is /j or /srs about the ot3 though.

#fandom #fanfiction #cnovels #danmei novels #idk just a lot of musings that i wanted to organize a bit. and since i already typed it all might as well set it free here

[starstruckwillows]

♡ first class let down - j.p ♡

requested by anon :) 🤍

adhd!james potter x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, arguing

patience is a virtue, but everyone makes mistakes

arguing with james hurt something deep inside your skin. like a stain that physically ached. he looked so forlorn you wanted to give up and let your point go, but then the glowing splint of anger would light within you once more.

you hadn’t been together all that long, so you hadn’t fought very much. it was still unprecedented territory and you had no default solution. you weren’t sure if you ever would.

usually, he was a stubborn man. he would fold his arms and have little regrets. he’d roll his eyes. he’d sigh, and groan, until the two of you got to the bottom of it. he didn’t typically shirk the responsibility, but he didn’t go down with it easily either.

this was different.

james potter was moping.

he was moping to quidditch practice, moping to the great hall, moping to class, and moping to bed. it’d been two days since you'd spoken, and you hated it, but some darker part of you was fractionally satisfied he felt your loss.

the fight had sparked because of his recklessness, his tendency to act first and think never. the fear that one day he'd cross the shifting line and you'd never see him again. it had stemmed from worry, not true irritation, and that threw the whole tone off. he lashed out, you reacted.

dark half-moons had taken up residence under james’ eyes when you found him half asleep beneath a tree by the black lake. he was hazy enough to not recognize you instantly, but conscious enough to detect someone was there.

“hello?” he grunted.

“hey.” you kept your voice carefully measured, tone flat, but he knew you instantly, shooting up and shielding his wide eyes from the bright light of winter sun.

“...hi,” he shuffled over on the robe he'd spread across the grass for you to sit, face falling when you squeezed right onto the edge and no further.

there was a thick beat of silence, then you both opened your mouths to speak at the same time. despite your remaining stress, a small smile couldn’t avoid your lips. james’ face held a similar expression, briefly, as his head dropped back for a second, then rolled round to the side. you could see how exhausted he was.

without thinking, you frowned, “james...”

“don’t call me that, please. you said you weren’t angry.” he pleaded, and you nodded.

“i’m not, baby. but i am worried. this is what i mean, you just... you don't take care of yourself properly at the best of times, and when we fight it’s worse. remus told me you aren’t sleeping.”

he sniffed, “i can’t. i can’t relax.”

it was true. even now, his fingers were tapping a quick, silent rhythm into his thigh.

“okay. we’ll come back to that later. but i still mean what i said, before, about this... lack of care you have for your life. i... i’ve tried to be good to you, and come to the infirmary when you fall off things, and carry around plasters for when you get hurt doing little things. there’s always water and food in my bag for you. i don’t mind, james, i really don’t, but i don’t like it when you take it for granted.”

a slight chill hung in the air. he noticed the goosebumps crawling up your arms and wordlessly offered you his jumper with his eyes trained determinedly on the ground. you took it, shrugged it on, and leant back against the tree.

you continued speaking, “i lost my patience the other day and wouldn’t let you talk, i’m sorry for that.”

james waited for a ‘but’. it didn’t come.

tentatively, he bridged the gap between you two with his pinky finger extended in an offer you accepted. your two fingers linked, he answered you.

“i’m sorry for saying i didn’t need you. i do. i guess... i guess that scared me. i’ve always appreciated everything you do for me, at least i thought i have, but maybe i haven’t. maybe i haven’t cos... these last days have been like hell. i miss you. i still miss you. i was an idiot. i’m so sorry.”

while apologizing, he didn’t look at you. he was scared of what he was going to see in your eyes. another person who got tired of his stupidity that he couldn’t seem to shake. another person who realised he was a first class let down.

but if he went looking, he wouldn’t find that.

“i love you.”

it meant everything to him, then. not just the sentiment of it’s original meaning, but forgiveness, acceptance, your own apology. rolled into three words he realised he’d been taking for granted.

it may have been the first time you’d said those words, but he felt their truth under his skin.

he reached over to grab the pen from your pocket, letting go of your finger and picking up your hand to rest on his leg.

softly pushing the biro onto your skin, he wrote ‘i love you’.

james pushed his glasses properly onto his face and dropped the pen to his side. you made a mental note to pick it up before you two returned to the castle.

“can i kiss you?” a new level of vulnerability bled into his voice, one you hadn’t been privy to before. a layer of confidence had dropped, for a moment.

you pushed his thick, brunette curls back from his face, “yeah, please.”

the confidence came back. his lips were on yours in an instant, slightly chapped but soft too, somehow.

bracing himself on the other side of your body with a hand on the ground, he was suspended above you, your back pressed into the tree bark.

the air grew colder as your mouths moved against each other, but not even a blizzard would have moved your arms from his shoulder blades.

“i love you.” he whispered.

---

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly

#starstruckwillows #marauders #marauders era #james potter #hurt/comfort #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter x reader #adhd!james #adhd!james potter #adhd!james potter x reader #gn!reader #james potter x gn!reader #fluff #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fluff

[unhappycylinder]

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fem!Reader) Pt. 12

WC: 1.3k

I was in the mood to cry, enjoy

Jake’s home was still stuffy, still dark, and still the same dreary bachelor pad you remembered from months ago. As you opened the door, waves of memories washed over you, enveloping you in a fog of pain, hurt, and discomfort. The last time you saw Jake in person…well…you had walked home alone with tears streaming down your face and stabbing pain in your heart. 

You didn’t even know it, but you were pregnant then.

Then the memories from your pregnancy flooded your brain, and you spiraled. Where had Jake been? Why hadn’t you told him? Why was he so cruel to you? Why didn’t you ever call him back after you broke the news the day after Christmas? 

There you stood, left hand gripping the door handle so hard that your knuckles were turning white, eyes sorrowfully locked on a spot on the floor. You were barely inside the house, the door still open with cool winter air flowing through it, one of Jake’s lighter bags slung over your other shoulder.

“Baby? Baby what are you doing?” Jake’s voice broke your trance, his hands reaching to take the bag off your shoulder and pull you inside. He ushered you into the house, closing the door behind you. Finally, as he turned to face you he noticed the shock on your face.

“Y/n?” He asked with concern, tossing the bag onto the ground and grabbing your shoulders. You couldn’t look at him. Preserving your emotional stability was far more important than explaining anything to him right now. 

“Y/n honey please, what’s going on?” He chuckled slightly, confused by your startled expression and silence.

Shaking your head, you pushed past his grasp and walked over to his kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water and propping yourself up against the wall for some sense of stability.

All focus was on controlling your breathing and your thoughts. How could you have known that coming back into Jake’s house would be such a trigger for you?

“Y/n?” Jake asked softly, standing at the other side of the kitchen to give you some space.

“Mhmm?” You hummed, eyes closing.

“Wanna talk to me?” Jake’s tone was different, it was tender and understanding. It was almost as if he knew exactly how you were feeling…and there was no pressure behind his words.

“I think I have to,” you choked back tears, “but I don’t know if I can”

“Come here,” he opened his arms for you, gesturing toward the couch.

Even on the couch he kept his distance, letting you choose how close you wanted to sit to him, and trying his best not to look upset when you picked the complete opposite side of the couch.

“I’m having a really hard time…” you cried out after several beats of silence, no longer able to hold back the tears.

“Honey,” he reached out to rub your thigh.

“It’s like…” you took a deep breath, “I love you so much and I feel so at home with you. I’ve never felt a pain like when we’re not together, and I know you feel the same”

“Of course I do,” Jake began, “deployment was the-”

“But you don’t act like it,” you cut him off, eyes finally meeting his, which were full of regret, “you’ve said things to me that I never thought anyone could say to someone…let alone someone they love…and you break up with me over and over again like I never meant anything to you.”

Jake’s hand left your thigh, moving to wipe tears out of his eyes.

“And I keep coming back to you, and accepting your empty apologies because I can’t live without you…but nothing hurts more than living with you because I’m just constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s so unfair”

“I know, baby, I know.” Jake sobbed, “I’m so sorry Y/n”

“Jake I went through a miscarriage on my own.” You took a breath, “I carried our baby for months without even hearing a word from you…that’s how much I believed in us, how much I needed you. We weren’t even together, you had ended things with me long before, yet I still kept the baby cause I thought you’d change your mind about me by the time you got back…but I couldn’t even…” you gasped for air, unable to continue.

Jake’s arms wrapped around you, his strength melting you into his embrace as you sobbed harder than ever before. His breath shook as he cried into the top of your head, hands gripping at your back as if you were going to disappear at any moment.

“Y/n” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I was such an asshole. I pushed you away and I got pissed when you didn’t talk to me…I was stupid. I was so fucking stupid. I let myself lose you after promising that I’d never do that again”

He gripped your back harder as he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, tucking your head into his neck and pressing soft kisses to his skin.

“I’ve never had anything like you in my life before and you freak me the fuck out. You always have. I love you more than I love anything else, and I don’t know what to do with all that love. Maybe pushing you away was an attempt to protect myself…a shitty attempt…but God I can’t ever let you suffer again like this on your own…especially because of me,” he hugged you tighter, “fuck Y/n, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed.

Running your hands up and down his back, you processed his words. He had asked you to forgive him when he got home, and you did. 

This regret, this pain, this sadness, all of this was new, and it told you he was being sincere. And you did forgive him, you really did. You had a lot to work through, and a lot of trust and comfort to build, but you forgave him.

“Jake,” you whispered, “look at me,” you said as you pulled away from the hug, hands moving to cup his face, now puffy from crying.

“Jake I forgive you,” you nodded at him, “You’re gonna have to work with me on building back trust and everything, but as much as I’ve been hurt by you, I know you didn’t mean it…okay? I need you, Jake, more than anything, and I forgive you.” 

“I love you Y/n. We’re gonna be okay…cause I can’t live without you sweetheart,” he rested his forehead against yours before pulling you in for a kiss. 

“It's just gonna take time, Jake, that's all” you hummed as you hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace, “but we're gonna be okay my love.”

That night, Jake’s first night home from deployment, had been playing in your mind since you had gotten back together while he was away. You imagined the scenarios so clearly: you surprising him with sexy lingerie, rose petals on the bed, cheesy romantic stuff. But that wasn’t how this night was fated to go.

Instead, you and Jake held each other on the couch until it felt like you had cried out every drop of water in your body…and you probably had. Jake’s hand in yours, he led you up to the bathroom where he drew you and him a nice bath, massaging your shoulders as you relaxed against him in the water. As you dried off, he called Rooster, letting him know that a trip to the Hard Deck wasn’t really in the cards for you tonight, which Rooster understood of course.

In bed, Jake’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, gentle kisses trailing up and down your neck and shoulder. 

“I love you Y/N,” he whispered in his sleepy voice.

“I love you too Jake,” you hummed, feigning drowsiness.

As you laid there, pretending to sleep as your mind raced through the conversation you had with him today, you felt his body tremble. Chaste tears and hushed sniffles came from Jake as he held you close…he couldn’t sleep either.

--

Taglist: @dempy @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mightiestheroes @taytaylala12 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230

#top gun #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic

[poemnic-tarot]

Channeled Message from Your Soulmate’s Higher Self

(Disclaimer : This is a general reading please only take what resonate. For entertainment purposes only)

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 1🌠 “Twin flames”

“I want to acknowledge your mastery of your own emotions. I love that you’ve learned not to control or shame your emotion but accept them for what they are. Your inner strength really shine through and it wasn’t easy so I want to congratulate you on that hard earned achievement, my love. Now your emotion can’t hold you back anymore from taking action. They do not dictate what you can or cannot do because frankly, there is nothing you can’t achieve in this world. You can basically manifest anything.

You are very intuitive and even psychic when we first met and I noticed that about you. I was surprised by how much you were able to pick up on. My feeling particularly because I was not that expressive. You’ve showed me how to balance between true inspired action and just doing things for the sake of doing it. It was hard for me to give something up or abandoned things I’ve started, even when I know it was passed due to do so. Leaving things,letting go of attachment is hard for me. I am the type to keep on reading a book or watching a movie till the end even when I am dead bored of them. There’s no reason for me to continue but there wasn’t a reason for me to leave either. So I’m stuck I guess, I’m very good at getting myself stuck, in the middle, hanging in- between staying or going. But you told me you found that endearing for some reason and gently took my hand and guide me out of my self- imposed prison. You have helped me heal my wound of abandonment, maybe that’s why it was hard to say goodbye to things and leave them, even though they do not serve me anymore.

I admire your sense of adventure, you are the most expressive person I’ve ever met. Even if you don’t know that about yourself. I feel quite a strong kinship with you, like this is not our first rodeo on this earth. Perhaps, we often have more adventures in our dreams, I know I do dreamt of you quite often. I just want to let you know that I love you, I love who are and who you were and who you are trying to become. Every versions of you amazed me cause your true strength alway shines through every time and I will alway recognised your bright essence anywhere.”

Love,

Your Soul Family

Signs: Rose, Lion/big cats, 111, Infinity, Pine trees,Crescent Moon

Love Quotes: "In the end, we all just want someone that chooses us over everyone else under any circumstances."

Song: I See the Light from Tangle

“….And at last I see the light

And it’s like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it’s like the sky is new

And it’s warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

Love Poem verse : Twin flames by @cant-find-my-name

…I recognised negative traits needed

To be discard,

When we met, I think I’ve found myself

The missing piece, part of my soul

Ah, you’re my Twin flames

When I met you I know

We’re one and the same

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 2🍄 If Magic Was Real

"I hope you are taking time to fully sit in your emotions and grieve. It is okay to express your emotion, in fact, it is crucial if you need to cry or break down or just lose it emotionally. Give yourself that permission to do so. You might think that it's strong of you to keep it together for the sake of others or yourself. That it is so mature of you to do so but darling, there need to be a balance. You need to heal but you won't be able to heal if you won't let yourself feel all of your sadness. If you need to cry, cry it out I will be here with you. You are not alone in your sorrows. I would like to give this song to you, maybe it would help "Chiquitita by Cher". It seem you have broken a feather but don't worry, we will try to patch it up together.

I want to tell you that a renewal is coming to you. It was a hard chapter that you just experienced and I hate seeing you pretending to be fine. But your sad eyes is not fooling anyone. It is okay to be sad,to be angry, to let it all out ( in a healthy way not in a self destructive way please). I admired you for holding it together for this long, but more than anything, I want you to let go. Be vulnerable with yourself, I think that is the most beautiful thing. Witness the spectrum of human emotions, it is beautiful. It is time to rest in your nest for awhile until you’re able to fly again. Take all the time that you need, grieve all that there is, broken relationships, friendships, nostalgia. Whatever it is, I am alway there. Listen to music because I love sending you messages through these songs, it has really helped me through my hard time. So I’m hoping music could be a little comfort to you at this time. Take some time for yourself love, cause you definitely need it. Trust me that the sun will rise once more, and all that happened will just been a hard learned lesson and you’ve definitely learn a lot from it.

I know that the real you is not a sad person. You are the most vibrant, radiant, happiest soul I know. And sadness doesn’t suit you one bit, as well as pretending to be happy. You shine best when you are true to your feeling. Winter is over and I cannot wait to welcome you back into the season of spring.”

Love,

Your Soulmate

Signs: Black feathers, birds, 55, Tears drop

Love Quote : “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Song : Chiquitita by Cher

Chiquitita, tell me the truth

I’m a shoulder you can cry on

Your best friend, I’m the one you must rely on

You were alway sure of yourself

Now, I see you’ve broken a feather

I hope we can patch it up together

Love Poem verse: If Magic Was Real by @cant-find-my-name

.. The world seem kind

When you’re around

To believe again

Is easy

When you’re with me

If Magic is real

It is where you’ll be

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 3🫧 I’ll Never Forget

“You’re working so hard and so am I. We’re trying to do our own work, slowly building strong foundation for the future. Maybe out of fears than anything. This anxiety to keep on going, to do better and better, to improve, constantly striving for a better future. I get it, I feel it too, however, if we keep on going like this eventually our life forces will run out. And physically we can become ill and I really don’t want that for you. So I’m here to let you know that you can slow down, what you feared will not come true. Your deep, dark fears will not come alive. If you think you can’t stop because you think that the fears you feel will transpire. No, it will not, you’ve work hard enough. Outwardly and internally, I’ve watched you tried and tried and alway striving to do better. To be better, but honey, you are already enough for me. You alway will be, regardless of what you did or what you didn’t do or what you will do. I will alway believe that your existence alone is enough for me. To sooth my soul, to lift my spirit up. You don’t have to do anything for me, I am happy just to be with you, to exist with you, to be by your side and bath in your lovely presence

I know you have struggled from a lack mentality, I don’t know if you notice that about yourself. And that is nothing to be ashamed of , I‘m struggling with it too. I understand how you feel, no matter how much you have or how much you do, you just feel it’s never enough. True abundance come from the inside. And you are already enough with the proof that your heart beats for you, the blood flowing in your vein is proof that we meant to exist here as we are. No more, no less.

Please rest assured love, and take a break once in a while. Do something that’s not related to work. I want you to practice winding down, practice letting go and relaxing. No one ever teach us how to truly relax and it is a skill, it doesn’t come naturally to us and we can help each other relax. We can practice together, practice just existing without shame or guilt, or a pit in our stomach that things will go wrong if you don’t do anything. I want you to learned to have fun because when we’re together, it’ll become a skill that will help our relationship a lot. I want to have fun together with you and for you to tell me all about your adventures, your travels and your crazy journey. I can’t wait to just sit down and be with you. Take a vacation with you and have the time of our lives. You are my vacation home.”

Love from,

Your Honey bear

Signs : 88, Roses, Games, Festival, Spider, Designer brand

Love Quote : “I know from that first moment we met. It was not love at first sight exactly but familiarity. Like ‘oh hello’, it’s you. It’s going to be you.”

Song : Voyage by Kep1er

“The sound of waves surging in

Far beyond the horizon

Between the clouds, we going high

Follow me in my way

When the gentle breeze blows

Close your eyes and feel it

We arrived to an unfamiliar island

slowly open your eyes

Love Poem verse: I’ll Never Forget by @cant-find-my-name

Loneliness is a disease

But I think you’ve just cure me,

You make me so happy

I don’t recognise myself,

You warmed my hand

Around your coffee mug

And asked if I’m alright

Your voice sounded worried

And there’s concern sincerity’s in

Your eyes.

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 4🌙Each Night

“Good evening, I hope to meet you again in our dream. I know you dreamed of me and questioned it. Believe in yourself my little star. Your dream is not lying to you. It is alright to hope, to wish, to believe in the impossible. Please don’t think that it’s ridiculous or childish to believe in true love, in soulmate and fairy tales. Because you’re not wrong to hope. Your soulmate exist and you know that but your fears trying to convince you otherwise. I am your soulmate and my message to you is to believe in me. I want to validate your feeling, your extraordinary senses. Your wish in that little star?, I heard it, the universe heard it too and we listen. To all of your wishes and it was not ridiculous of you to wish for love, true love. It is not unrealistic, or rose colour glasses. It is just something that you know you deserve and want to feel. We do not shame or guilt ourself for asking for more love.

I am alway with you, in your dream, in your waking life, in our past lives. That is why you can feel my presence so strongly. It is not just from your imagination. I want to assured you that, it is real. I am as real as the bark of a tree. I can feel you too but truthfully, my 3D self is not as intuitive as you. I tend to brush things off when they don’t make sense, so please don’t be like me.Things doesn’t need to make sense now,it will eventually come together. Unfolding naturally, beautifully. I know you see my signs everywhere and is questioning reality. You are not going mad, just a head up from me. We will meet soon, in a way that you won’t believe. I won’t either but we both know that we wish for this desperately. Earth has been achingly lonely for me. And knowing you exist have helped alleviate the ache a bit. I want you to take your time with life, don’t rush cause when we come together, we can continue this journey together in an even pace,step by step.

Love,

Yours

Signs : North Star, Dove, Diamond shape, Cocoon of a butterfly, 8910, 2020

Love Quotes: “He loves you very much” she said, but more than that, he cares for you. Sometimes love is not as important as truly caring for the other person.

Song : Surefire by John Legend

“Let me breath you in ‘till gravity bends

And we fall through the hole in the light

Make this our kingdom

Somewhere where good love conquers and not

Divides”

Love Poem verse : Each Night by @cant-find-my-name

Oh distance shore

I beg of you

Please no more,

Please don’t keep us apart

I can’t take it

This is destroying my heart,

We are one and it’s time to be

Together again

Next to each other

Hand in Hand

Feel you touch my skin

Smell your scent

I breathe you in………

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Thank you so much for reading!. If this resonate please leave a tip if you like. See you soon!

Check out more of my original poems at @cant-find-my-name .

#pick a card #esoteric #messages #love messages #channeled reading #channeled message #higher self #soulmates #love letters #love reading #tarot messages #tarot reading